


An Alternate Path

by OhLookBalloons



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Techincally since this isn't canon in the story, does that make this a AU of an AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLookBalloons/pseuds/OhLookBalloons
Summary: Discarded chapters and Ideas for In The Dead Of Night, set up right here for everyone's viewing! I'd recommend you'd read that fic first for context, and be wary that I may recycle some of these ideas for the actual fic! So, like, possible spoilers ahead?
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	1. Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, this series is gonna be the proverbial scrap bin! Sort of take it as all the rough drafts of ideas I'd ether implemented in the fic (And removed) or ideas I liked but never got around to adding to the thing. Or like, stuff I figured out how to fit better into the series. For now the old Chapters 20-24 will be here, as I realized I've written myself in a corner, but I may add funny shenanigan writings, au's, and who knows what else!

It was dark when he returned to Arcadia. Hitting that odd time of night where you could argue that it was  _ technically _ morning, Otto hadn’t meant to be out this late. But then again, he hadn’t expected Angor Rot, infamous troll assassin, to blackmail him into being  _ his _ lackey. And just when he’d gotten out from under Bular’s thumb too?! So he did the only thing his frazzled, conflicted mind could have done back then. 

He had quickly signed the papers he’d came to sign, then got in his car, and drove. He needed time to think, time to plan, and time to put some distance between himself and Angor Rot. Yet he knew that it would only be a matter of time till the troll found him. 

“ **Damn you, Stricklander** ,” Otto cursed under his breath, laying his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the steering wheel. The Trollish words fell clumsily from his mouth, but that was out of exhaustion then lack of practice. He hadn’t slept in what, a full day? Perhaps two? 

It was nothing some coffee wouldn’t fix. 

Not caring if he woke anyone, Otto slumped out of his nice car, shutting the door with a resounding thud. He only checked once to see if Angor Rot was spying on him. He didn’t know if not seeing him there was worse. 

“ _ Guten Morgen, kleine Göre.” _ Otto called out, both out of spite and to properly let the child know it was him. Last time he’d arrived in the middle of the night, she’d let out a scream that not only startled him, but had sent Bular hurtling out of the bedroom at a high tackling speed. And right now, he wasn’t sure his throat could handle another throttling. 

Laying on the couch, Trisha’s eyes scrunched up. Shifting her pillow to be over her face, there was no doubt in Otto’s mind that she’d fall asleep in the next minute or two. He’d smirked bitterly as he made his way into the kitchen. Ah, to be young. He wouldn’t lie, he was envious, having never gotten any sort of childhood. But he’d have all the time to relax once they’re mission finally paid off. 

Not five minutes later, Otto was sipping freshly brewed coffee out of the pot as he made his way to “Bular’s” room. Pushing on the door, he was surprised to find that it wasn’t blocked shut. He was also surprised to find that Bular was asleep. He’d been asleep when Otto had last left. And the time before that. That wasn’t normal, especially for Bular.

As a matter of fact, Trolls only slept for excessive periods of time if…

If they’re body wasn’t getting the proper energy it needed. 

“Oh please,  _ please _ don’t do this right now” Otto muttered to himself, already making his way over to the pink mound and debating what he should be do. For a moment, he wondered if he should even  _ try _ to wake him up, lest risk his anger. But if he didn’t wake up the vicious prince now, then who  _ knew  _ how long it would take for Bular to wake up again. 

Oh well. He was pretty much dead either way. 

“Bular! Bular! Wake up!” Otto began, giving Bular one good shove before scrambling away. For a moment, nothing happened. Then another, then another...then a snore, as loud as it was thunderous.“ _ Scheiße. _ ”

“Mr. Otto?” Turning his head to the doorway, Otto spotted Trisha standing with the same groggy confusion he’d expected her to have earlier. Not the intended target of his wake up scheme, but at least it proved that he’d been loud enough. “What are you doin’?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Otto replied, more in an effort to get her to leave the anything. Turning his attention back to Bular, Otto figured that, perhaps, a different approach was in order. Rolling his sleeves up, Otto once again went to trying to shove the murderous Gumm-Gumm awake. This time, he was aiming to move him off of the bed. Perhaps then, he’d wake up. 

“Do you need Bular for somethin’?” The child asked, now shuffling over to where Otto was. Trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she let out a yawn, and in turn, causing Otto to yawn as well. 

“It’s-” Otto began, but another yawn cut him off. “-it’s none of your concern. Go back to bed.” 

“I can’t. You’re too loud.” Trisha yawned back, and before the circle of stupidity could continue, Otto bit back his next yawn. “Did something bad happen?” 

Feeling the wind taken out of his sails, Otto gave up pushing and simply slumped to the ground. He was too tired and too stressed to deal with this right now. “...when was he awake last?” 

“Uh…” 

“Forget it, Forget it,” Pinching the bridge between his nose, Otto got up and made his way into the kitchen. He heard the tell tale sound of feet pattering along after him, but he chose to pay no mind. At least, until he got to the freezer, in which case he hoped he hadn’t left anything too incriminating inside. 

Hesitant for just a second, Otto cracked the freezer door open just a sliver, peaking into the darkness.

Luck seemed to be on his side. The various meat’s he had had wrapped in plastic bags, all labeled “Bular’s”, were inconspicuous enough. No human heads or severed limbs. All that time “preparing” these meals had paid off. Letting out a sigh, he’d skimmed over the selection. From the looks of thing, he’d might have to go and get some more.

“Is Bular sick?” The child asked, and Otto promptly ignored her. Instead, he quickly pulled a few bags out and held them out for Trisha to take.

“Here, be useful.” He said, grabbing more for himself. Using his foot to shut the fridge door, Otto made his way back to the bedroom. 

He hadn’t moved an inch, and even now Otto could see just how shallow his breathing had become. What happened? He’d been doing just fine before, recovering greatly! The amount of flesh he’d been supplemented should have already brought him back to full health. Hell, just a few days ago he’d been looking for a way to sneak outside! 

Flinging the comforter off as best he could, Otto soon noticed that something else was amiss. Bular’s wounds, where before they had healed over, had begun to deteriorate it seemed. The once decently sized stab wound now surrounded by a web of cracks and chips. Ever so faintly, Otto could see it glowing in the darkness, pulsing weakly. 

“Oh, for pale lady’s sake,” Otto groaned, mind whirling with the possible responses of  _ that  _ mess. Wonderful, just wonderful! Tearing into one of the bags, zip lock be damned, he quickly shoved the opened bag as close to Bular’s maw as he was able. Mostly because he was holding the very tip of the bag and was not in the mood to lose a digit or two.

A moment passed, then two. 

“You gotta hold it closer.” 

Suddenly, a small hand darted out, pushing Otto’s closer to the Gumm-gumm’s maw. Otto jumped slightly, but before ether child or changeling could say a word, Bular’s nose began to twitch. Not a few moments later, the bag was snagged by the beast’s large tongue, and slowly eaten. Staring in both amazement and fear, Otto didn’t dare turn his gaze away. Less the Gumm-Gumm prince woke up and went into a rage. 

“He has to smell it first, but he should be fine now,” Trisha yawned, now holding out another bag and watching as Bular once again claimed it. “Here, watch…” 

Otto watched in horror as the child threw a bag of human flesh up into the air. With a resounding slap, it landed right over Bular’s left eye. Before Otto could remove the bag, or more specifically run, Bular’s face scrunched up and, hilariously seemed to help guide the food to his maw. 

Oh god. This was amazing. He couldn’t tell anyone, but this was amazing. Oh god, if Gunmar found out, he was as good as dead. 

“How...how did you find this out?” Otto asked, perhaps after the fifth or sixth bag. 

“I got bored,” Trisha responded carelessly, before scowling at her hands. “Aw, gross! I got cow blood on me.” 

Oh no...that's right...she didn’t know...

“Hey! No! Don’t wipe that on your pajamas!” Already Otto was scrambling back to the kitchen, getting a wash rag at the ready. This was a mess, a whole, entire mess. If there was a hell, Otto knew this final act was the final nail on the coffin for him. “Here, let me just- oh stop squirming!”

This was ridiculous, all of this. He wasn’t meant to be some fleshbag nanny. They weren’t supposed to be treating Bular this casually. This child shouldn’t have even been alive, let alone here. And yet, the whole affair seemed so...domestic.

It reminded him of his first years on the surface.

“Honestly do you know how hard it can be to get blood out of this type of material.” Otto muttered, yet it lacked any bite. It was when the child didn’t say anything that he finally took his attention away from her hand and towards her face, which was staring right at him. “What?” 

“You’re hurt,” Trisha mumbled, and Otto cursed himself for getting so caught up in the moment. He’d must have let his glamour fall. No doubt she spotted the bruises around his neck, now that he was at about her eye level. “What happened?”

For a moment, just a moment, the concern in the child’s eyes caught Otto off guard. But unlike anti-social trolls and simple minded goblins, Otto was now so easily swayed. No, a changeling goes through out life meeting all sorts of people, both kind and cruel. One act of pity wouldn’t shake him of his resolve. 

Still, the fact that she cared was cute. Foolish, but then again weren’t all humans.

“...Don’t worry about it,” he sighed, his mind trying to find something else to change the subject too. “Here, how about I make us breakfast,  _ ja?  _ It’s practically morning anyway. And Bular may be up by the time it’s finished. _ ”  _

Just as Otto was about to leave the room, he spared one last glance at the slumbering prince. Wondering what would be better, for him to be awake, or for him to sleep...

* * *

_ The grass was softer than usual. Softer then any grass that natural grew in southern California. At first he assumed he’d accidentally wandered into that cursed “golf” course, but no, there were too many trees for that to be true. Still, he paid it no mind. Not when his hunger felt like it was driving him up the wall. He felt like he’d been hunting for so long, too long. Surly the sun should have been up by now?  _

_ But no, he could see the moon glowing peacefully down at him. It’s form, full and round, heightened his already impeccable night vision.  _

**_“Then why haven’t I found anything,”_ ** _ Bular grumbled, more to himself then to anyone. Not that it would have mattered. He hadn’t even heard the sound of crickets chirping, let alone any prey worthy of a meal. He was beginning to feel weak, but he had to press on.  _

_ Starving to death hardly seemed like a worthy way to go. Not for him, not for any warrior.  _

_ He tried to remember what time it was when he stepped out. He remembered the whelp asleep on the couch, but he couldn’t remember the time for the life of him. He would have tried to gauge it by the moon, but it never seemed to move.  _

_ Stopping in his tracks, Bular rose to his feet in an effort to get a scent. He needed something, anything really. Yet all his nose picked up was moss and bog water.  _

**_“Where in the pale lady’s name…”_ ** _ Bular muttered, his anger mixing into confusion. There should have been at least some sort of scent. Some sort of living scent, that is. But it seemed as if this very forest was lifeless. As if it was empty… _

_ Then, ever so faintly, he caught it.  _

_ Blood.  _

_ Human Blood at that. It didn’t smell fresh, but his stomach was clearly content with eating whatever came his way. Running on all fours, Bular could feel his mouth water at the possible taste. He’d been stuck to ether eating deer, or fishing out whatever the Changeling had tossed in the fridge. This would be the closest he’d get to a full on meal. _

_ Breaking through the treeline, Bular soon found himself near the canals, right where he’d slayed Kanjigar. Yet his eyes were focused on the limp human, laying on the concrete. Bular didn’t even bother looking to see if they were alive, instead actively digging into their flesh the moment he’d gotten close enough.  _

_ Once again, the flesh didn’t seem warm. If anything, it was cold to the touch. Yet that seemed to sooth something inside the Gumm-Gumm, quelling a fever he hadn’t noticed to begin with.  _

_ It was only after he had his fill that Bular noticed the fleshbag face. With her green, lifeless eyes and-  _

**_“Not again!”_ ** _ Bular cursed, instantly scrambling away from the corpse. Bloody hand prints followed him all until he’d hit the concrete underbelly of the bridge. He felt his shock fade into fear, but then mixing into something else. Anger? Yes, it had to be. But never had it felt so sickly in his stomach before.  _

_ Letting out a growl, Bular reached behind his back and pulled out his duel jaw-blades. By now he’d realized he was dreaming, but like he cared anymore.  _

**_“Enough of this!”_ ** _ Bular roared, weapons drawn at the ready. But who was he going to attack, the body? The bridge? His embarrassment only stoked the embers of his wrath.  _ **_“Whoever is responsible for this, answer me! Face me like a warrior, you cowards!”_ **

_ Yet all that came his way was silence. Nothing but the sound of wind answered him. _

_ Normally, this would be when he’d wake up. Or something bad would happen, and then he would wake up. But as he waited, lungs panting in outrage, nothing happened… _

_ Perplexed, Bular looked around, trying to spot any father shaped or bridge shaped terror’s making their way. Even that blasted pink changeling was nowhere to be seen. Slowly lowering his blades, by now the fear had completely faded into confusion. Was it going to be one of those kinds of dreams? The ones where they went from bad to better, and then he’d wake up remembering none of it? _

_ Letting out a groan, Bular once again slumped to the ground, running one of his hands over his face. He didn’t need this right now. He really didn’t need this right now. He had battles to plan and skulls to crush! How dare his own dreams keep him from doing so… _

_ Wait, he was dreaming… _

_ Perhaps he could just, summon a way out? Maybe a door or a hole or, well, anything really. This was his dream, after all. Besides, it wouldn’t matter if he looked stupid or failed, no one would know if he did.  _

_ Closing his eyes, Bular tried to concentrate on the idea of an exit. His mind fiddled around with concepts until he settled on a hole. Yes, a hole to lead him back to the waking world. That would be good. A hole was simple. A hole- _

**_“The only hole you’ll find is your grave, Bular!”_ **

_ Snapping his eyes open, Bular managed to dodge just out of the way of the Trollhunter’s sword. Instinctively, he grabbed up his duel blades, and let out a mighty roar. Of course, of course he should have suspected this. Still, the voice startled Bular for a mere second. Much more than the vision he saw.  _

_ It was Kanjigar, but at the same time, it wasn’t. His body was sunstained, various patches shifting from dead grey to pale blue. Even one of his eyes was almost completely claimed, yet the affliction did little to stop him. No, this form of Kanjigar fought as well as his old self, if not better.  _

_ Maybe this was what he needed, a fight to calm his nerves.  _

**_“Ah, Kanjigar,”_ ** _ Bular growled, a smile growing on his face.  _ **_“I won’t lie. Killing you a second time will be just as rewarding as the first.”_ **

**_“Ah, but the sun is not here to help you, Bular.”_** _Kanjigar retorted, a smile growing on his own face._ ** _“But I do have someone here to aid me, it seems.”_**

_ Before Bular could even wonder what that mean, he felt something jump upon his back. A gleam of shining, silver armor took his vision, and Bular instinctively flung the fleshbag off. Watching the boy skid across the concrete till he got his footing, Bular felt his rage well up inside him. His orange eyes locked onto the current Trollhunter’s deep blue.  _ **_“This time, I’ll make sure you stay down.”_ **

_ He didn’t say anything else, simply letting out a cry as he charged. _

* * *

For some reason, Otto didn’t know why he disliked children so much. He’d made it his specific objective to avoid all snot nosed, whiny brats whenever possible. But he knew that wasn’t the reason he loathed being around them. After all, trolls were far more disgusting, and whining was easily silenced in the Janus order. No, it took living with one for him to remember what was so annoying about these little fleshlings. 

“If you can turn into anything you want, why are you always human?” 

Their excessive, intrusive questions. For Gunmar’s sake he hated how, no matter what he answered, another soon take its place. It never ended with her! His mind flashed back to when his little “brother”, how as soon as the boy could talk, he’d bother Otto with question after question. He also remembered how easily he’d snuck away from his cover family soon after, as the whole group had always been rather nosy. Ah, such simpler times the 1600’s were. People could disappear so easily back then. 

“I mean, I’d turn into something cooler than a human…” Trisha mumbled, taking a bite of her somewhat charred breakfast. What could Otto say, he wasn’t an expert cook. 

Taking a bite out of his eggs, sunny side up, he felt his patience running thin. All he wanted right now was some peace and quiet, but no. He was stuck here. 

“Because,” he said, not looking up from the news paper he’d snagged from outside. “It is easier to get around that way.” 

“But you could be  _ anything _ !” Trisha exclaimed, mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Like a dinosaur, or like, Gun robot!” 

“Yes, and that would certainly not get anyone’s attention, now would it?” Otto responded, allowing his eyes to peek over the paper to give a sarcastic eye raise. “The point of a changeling is to blend in,  _ kleine Göre.  _ Not to stand out. A known changeling is a dead one, after all.” 

“Wait...dead?” 

Otto mentally cursed himself for his dark humor.

“Ah, well yes. It is what it is,” Otto coughed, quickly burying his head back into the news. Part of him hoped the child would give up her questioning, but instead she dug in deeper. 

“Is...is that why you got hurt?” Trisha asked, rising up in her chair to try and peer over the flimsy wall Otto had put up. Otto tried to pull the news closer to his face, pretending that the coupon section was far more interesting than it was. “Did someone find out?”

“...More or less,” Otto conceded, after a few awkward moments of silence. He wasn’t about to tell the child the whole story. Maybe if he was more awake, he could make a better lie out of this. Perhaps use the situation to his benefit. But he was too burnt out to really say much on the matter. 

“...Is it cause you’re an Impu-” 

Instinctively Otto slammed the paper down on the table. While the fleshbag let out a quick gasp in surprise, the changeling wasn’t done with her yet. He could tolerate it when it came from a troll, specifically ones that could kill him, but to be called that by a  _ human child _ ?! That was an insult he could not stand for. 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ call me that,” Otto snapped, one hand gripped around the news while the other was pointing right at the startled child. “You understand me?! If you ever,  _ ever _ call me that again, I’ll-”

And Otto stopped himself, because if he knew if he said anything more, he was as good as a dead man. 

“What- but- I” The child sputtered, tears starting to form in her eyes. “I didn’t...I-...”

Oh, wonderful, he’d scared her into crying. Pinching the bridge of his eyes, Otto took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He could feel his teeth shifting back to their normal, human size. As well as his eyes change from their catlike pupils to their typical round ones. He needed to do damage control. 

“It’s… it’s fine,” Otto sighed, trying to keep his voice soft and soothing. Swallowing his pride, he took a seat and tried to give an apologetic smile. “Don’t cry. You didn’t know, and I’m sure no one’s told you about it. I’m sorry for letting my temper get the best of me,  _ kleine Göre. _ ”

For a few moments, neither seemed to say anything, before Trisha carefully began to nod, trying to wipe the tears from her face. “B-bular said he’d tell me why he calls you that, but he never d-did. I-i’m sorry I-”

Oh, well, perhaps this could be a useful moment after all. After all, she’d have to learn about this sooner than later. At least it was coming from him and not that oaf. 

“Hush, hush,” Otto replied, already reaching over to give the child some extra napkins, to wipe her eyes with of course. “The reason why Trolls will call us Changeling... _ that _ , is quite a story. You remember how I said that I was a polymorph?” 

Trisha nodded, wiping her eyes and giving Otto her undivided attention. 

“Well, typically changelings are Trolls who can shift from a human form to their troll forms.” To help explain this visually, Otto pluck the salt and pepper shakers from the table and held them up. Quickly unscrewing the lids, Otto poured one pile of each. “But in order for that to happen, a ritual is performed, changing the troll.” 

Otto pushed some of the salt into the pepper, mixing the power together. He looked up to see the child enthralled. He continued onwards. 

“Thus, by mixing both human and troll genetics together,” And plus a few other things Otto couldn’t exactly describe without completely scaring the child. “A Troll  _ changes _ into a Changeling. So, in a way, we aren’t exactly trolls anymore. We’re more than that.” 

“...Wow,” Trisha’s eyes widened, looking from the pile of salt and pepper back to Otto. Yet the gears slowly started to turn in her head, and sure turned her gaze back to the bedroom, with it’s unshifting bed. “So then, Im-... _ that _ word’s a bad word then, and Bular calls you that cause...:” 

“Trolls usually view anything that isn’t a troll as lesser,” Otto sighed, surprised by the truth in his voice. “Humans are met with disdain and annoyance, but if a Changeling is found, then they’d be lucky to even escape alive. Bular is only different due to the fact that Changelings and Gumm-Gumms have been working together for centuries.” 

“Working together for what?” 

“Well obviously to -” And for a moment, Otto paused. How else was he to explain what he wanted, to the child of a species that would soon be slaughtered or subjugated. He couldn’t say how much he hated her kind, with their foolish ignorance and stupidity. He couldn’t say how that he even hated Bular, and the Gumm-Gumm’s in general. But he could say what he truly fought for, even if it hid the darker truths in it’s idealism. 

“To belong, I suppose.”

* * *

_ Bular gritted his teeth as he found off each Trollhunter, dual blades whirling wildly and singing with each hit. Yet he never landed a hit on them, and they we’re already landing a number of blows back onto his body. His stoney skin was littered with slices and stabs and wounds bleeding sunlight. But he couldn’t give up, not now, not ever.  _

**_“You seem tired,”_ ** _ Kanjigar taunted, tossing his sword up into the air before catching it with ease.  _ **_“Law down your weapons and rest, son of Gunmar. We will give you an honorable death.”_ **

**_“To die to you two, a fool and a fleshbag, would never be an honor,”_ ** _ Bular snarled, diving past Kanjigar to pushing the speedy human away with his blade. He couldn’t keep this up, he knew that. But even in his dreams, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he gave up now. His pride would kill him before the Trollhunters did.  _

**_“Aren’t you, like, raising a human kid or something?”_ ** _ The boy called out, not seeming bothered by getting launched into the air. Hadn’t he been in the air just a moment ago? Well it seemed now that he was back on the ground.  _

_ Bular went to slash at the boy’s stomach, yet his blades missed time and time again.  _ **_“No. I’m not!”_ ** __

**_“Nah, pretty sure you’re-”_ ** _ The young Trollhunter began, a laugh echoing out of his mouth, before Bular managed to finally land a swing. This time, instead of launching the boy into the air, Bular had flung him into the bridge. A loud clang echoed out, and the boy let out a groan.  _

_ Bular couldn’t celebrate his victory for too long, however, as he felt Daylight plunge into his back and through his stomach. Ah, right where his scar was Fitting that this time around, it would come from the very troll he’d slain.  _

**_“Oh how the Mighty have fallen,_ ** _ ” Kanjigar spat, yet the voice was not his own. It was younger, snarkier...one Bular had never heard before. “ _ **_Gumm-Gumm prince, slayer of thousands; nothing but pebbles of a once bloodthirsty troll.”_ **

_ Bular pulled himself off of Kanjigar’s blade, his lungs trying to grasp more and more air, as if breathing would stave off the now bleeding wound. Kanjigar still looked like Kanjigar, but there was something different about him...His eyes, they glowed a faint green.  _

**_“But,”_ ** _ Not Kanjigar continued, burying his blade into the concrete.  _ **_“Is that really all there is to you, Bular?”_ **

_ Bular just stared as his foe laid his weapon down, crossing his arms as he waited for Bular to say something. His mind, frazzled from the fighting and pain, simply stared at the ghost as he breathed.  _

**_“Who...who are you?_ ** _ ” Bular found himself asking, knowing that his mind would not conjure and enemy he didn’t know.  _

**_“Come and see,”_ ** _ Not Kanjigar beckoned, smirking all the while as Bular’s mind melted in on itself. There was something about it, whether it was the smirk in general or the fact that it was on Kanjigar’s face, it made his blood boil.  _

_ Bular’s grip tightened on his blades. With a shove, he gave one last charge at his former enemy, his roar full of all the fight he still had in him. He felt satisfied when the blades pierced the troll’s armor, digging through just as daylight had done too him. Sadly, it gave just enough time for the current Trollhunter to gather his senses and attack as well. Diving from the bridge’s beams, Bular felt his vision split as the Trollhunter brought his blade down upon his skull.  _

_ He heard his horns crack apart before his vision blurred. He felt his body go slack as he fell down, past the concrete, past the underground where troll market undoubtedly laid, past the world and all it held. He still kept falling, never slowing down, never stopping, picking up speed.  _

_ Bular through he’d shattered by the time he finally hit the ground. His body ached, ached like it ever had before. His limbs felt weak… _

_ And yet, the moment his vision cleared, and he saw Kilahead bridge before him, Bular lepted to his feet and spun to run off.  _

_ In the distance, he saw Aaarrrgghh, young and confused and looking at him the same way he did right after he betrayed him.  _

_ Aaarrrgghh ran.  _

_ And Bular gave chase.  _


	2. Dream a Little Dream of Me pt 2

Aaarrrgghh never like to keep secrets from people. Sure, he was rather decent at them, seeing as he was a troll of few words. But to keep secrets from the people he loved, the ones he cared about, always stuck a cord in him. Whether it was his honor as a Krubera or a left over from his past time as a Gumm-Gumm, he didn’t know. But he did know that it always left him feeling guilty. It was why he often came clean whenever he accidentally ruined one of Blinky’s books, or ate a vhs tape from Toby’s that he shouldn’t have snagged. But the wound was different. Right now, they had to deal with not only with Bular and Angor Rot, but getting the killstones as well. He’d only be slowing them down if he revealed his affliction.

Still, what Blinky said next struck a chord in Aaarrrgghh that he never expected.

“Ever since our Human… _deformity_ , you’ve been distant.”

Snapping his gaze away from his side, which was now starting to sting along his thigh and towards his elbow; Aaarrrgghh looked at Blinky. Even in his newer, fleshier form, Aaarrrgghh could easily see the sorrow in his friend’s eyes. For a moment, he thought to tell Blinky, to at least let him in one the-

No. No, he couldn’t. This was Blinky, _his_ Blinky. The very same Blinky who dug his nose into every problem and Mystery Trollmarket had to offer. The same Blinky who’d been researching day and night to find their team any edge against their new foe. The same Blinky would would also try, with all his might, to find someway to stop his Aaarrrgghh’s affliction…

He couldn’t take Blinky’s focus away from what was important. He needed to have his undivided attention on this. He didn’t need to worry about Aaarrrgghh, not at such a critical time. It’d be selfish of him.

“Uh, yes,” Aaarrrgghh replied, giving a nervous smile that he hoped would be mistaken. “Distant.”

“I may look different,” Blinky said, eyes still focused on the book below. Yet both knew he wasn’t reading it anymore. Then, with that bite that his voice always holds when he gets passionate, Blinky turned to look at Aaarrrgghh. Those warm, brown eyes of his holding a small mix of emotions. What were they? Shame, conviction, longing? “But I’m still the same Blinky.”

BEfore Aaarrrgghh could say anything else, those eyes soon filled with hope. Blinky continued.

“How about, to cheer you up, maybe later today we rent an automobile and go for a drive?” Blinky smiled, and Aaarrrgghh practically see the excitement in his eyes. “One of those “convertibles” people seem to rave about! I hear we’re not too far away from the world’s largest thermometer. We could scope out the security and then once we’re back to our regular selves, you could eat it!”

Ah, there it was. No matter what form Blinky could take, he’d always have that sparkle in his eyes, whether he had two of them or six. It was almost enough to have Aaarrrgghh say yes, to have him swept off his feet and go out on an adventure with his old friend. But then his side began to ache, and Aaarrrgghh remembered how easily it would be for his secret to be found. All it would take would be one false move, one gust of wind, and Blinky’s keen eyes would pick upon the bandages and ask question after question…

“Mn, not today,” Aaarrrgghh sighed, trying to ignore how horrible he felt about it. Not wanting to see the sorrow in his friend’s eyes, Aaarrrgghh turned away just in time to hear Blinky’s next words.

“Perhaps another time, my dear friend…”

Aaarrrgghh’s heart clenched at the sorrow in his tone. He couldn’t keep doing Blinky like this.

He needed help...

* * *

_Dipping and diving through the fighting trolls, Bular presued Aaarrrgghh as fast as he could. Looking down at his limbs, he could see that his previous fight’s wounds had all but healed. Yet there was an acute stinging at the tips of his horns, from where the Ex-Gumm-gumm general’s fist had collided with his face. As a matter of fact, Bular felt younger then he had before. Youthful, even. He didn’t bother thinking about it too much, his emotions pushing him to one goal._

_He may have fallen to the trollhunters, but he wouldn’t let Aaarrrgghh get away this time. He couldn’t let Aaarrrgghh get away this-_

_Wait, the bridge! His father!_

_Bular stopped in his tracks, feet skidding in the soft earth as he spun around. True enough, Gunmar and Deya were fighting atop the construct, just as Bular remembered. If he ran to his father’s aid, perhaps he could stop this. Dreams be damned, even if it was all in his head he’d at least right this one sin. His most costly failure._

_“_ **_Father!_ ** _” Bular yelled, much like Drall had to Kanjigar, plowing towards his leader. He could see Deya starting to gain the upper hand, ever so slightly. His father was pushed back as their blades sang with strife. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lose him again. His father could berate him for interfering after they’d slayed the Trollhunter, but he would not lose him again._

_Yet it seemed that fate never played in his favor._

_Bular leapt into the air just as Deya slammed the amulet down onto the keystone, letting out a mighty roar as the portal to the darklands lit anew._

_It was empty, devoid of light and life, and it took every bit of luck and strength Bular had not to be sucked in at the first go. To his credit, his claws managed to dig into the cobblestone of the rim, keeping him from getting sucked in completely. The force was immense, however, and with each passing second, Bular didn’t know how long he could hold on. He began to climb, or tried to, but then he noticed his father be flung off of the bridge, floating in the air for a moment before being pulled towards the gate._

_Instinctively, one of Bular’s hands reached out, grabbing Gunmar’s out stretched claw._

**_“I got you!”_ ** _Bular yelled, over the wind whirling past them and the screams of their comrades._ **_“I’ve got you, father!”_ **

**_“My son…”_ ** _Gunmar stared, shocked for a moment, before letting out a nod as a smirk grew on his face. Letting the Decimar blade vanish in his grasp, he proceeded to use his free hand to get a better grip on Bular’s arm. Already, he was scaling his son like a rope, using him to get away from the maw of Killahead bridge. It was hard to keep them both from slipping in, but Bular held on, despite how much his left arm screamed at the weight. Once Gunmar was on the other side, he gave his spawn another smile._ **_“I knew you would always come through.”_ **

_And Bular smiled right back, because it had been so long since he’d seen his father’s smile, or heard his praise. He had worried that he’d forget Gunmar had looked like, after all these years. But he looked just as how Bular remembered. Strong, fearless, a true leader._ **_“Let’s not think of that. Help me up so that we can finish the Trollhunter together!”_ **

_Yet Gunmar didn’t move to offer his hand, instead, his smile fell, and Gunmar stared down at his boy. The Decimar blade materialized in his hand, and he made a move to walk back up the bridge._

**_“Father?”_ ** _Bular asked, still trying to keep his smile despite the pit of dread filling his guts._

**_“If you’re not strong enough to get out on your own,”_ ** _Gunmar began, not bothering to look his son in the eye,_ **_“ then you don’t deserve to be here.”_ **

_Bular only watched as his father walked right past him, but not before giving his son a pat on the head, ruffling his hair like he’d done when he was a whelp. He watched as he once again locked Deya into combat, but made no move to remove the amulet. His single blue eye held nothing but bloodlust, and only that._

**_“Father…”_ ** _Bular whispered, not realizing the stone under his claw had given away till his vision became obscured by the darkness. He didn’t care, his mind was still frozen by Gunmar’s words. And even then, he couldn’t drive himself to act._

_Thankfully, someone else did. Someone with a mossy scruff and careful green eyes. Someone who was too surface worn then his kind even should have. Someone who’d barely even knew proper humanspeak._

_Someone that had no right saving him…_

_“_ **_Aaarrrgghh?”_ ** _Bular mumbled, left hand currently held in the generals grasp. Now that Bular looked at him, Aaarrrgghh seemed younger as well. The guilt hadn’t fully claimed him, hadn’t made his eyes as low and made his horns as soft. His markings were still fresh, rather then worn and grown out._

**_“Got you,”_ ** _Aaarrrgghh growled, despite it being clear that he wasn’t particularly winning against the bridge ether. Of course it wouldn’t, he was a Gumm-Gumm not a few moments ago. As if punching him absolved him of his crimes._

_Despite that, Bular felt himself slowly be pulled from the bridge._

_Back on the surface, back on earth, the battlefield was empty. No trolls, no fighting, just a vast empty field and Kilahead bridge._

**_“You fool!”_ ** _Bular roared, coming to his senses._ **_“You dare think this will save you from my wrath?!”_ **

_But Aaarrrgghh shook his head, fear passing through those big green eyes of his. He tried to back away, as if to get around the Gumm-Gumm prince. It just made Bular even angrier. Angry enough to try and swing his swords, to curse his name to the darklands and back, to just kill the fool right here._

_But despite everything, despite the disgust and rage Bular that had pushed Bular into cornering the traitor, he could still feel that flash of confusion from all those years ago. That pain of betrayal._

_He had to know..._

**_“Why…”_ ** _Bular growled, tossing one of his blades into the dirt and grass._ **_“Why did you do it?”_ **

_Aaarrrgghh stared at Bular, eyes searching for something, anything to say. And during those few moments, Bular felt each memory he had of Aaarrrgghh flash by. Aaarrrgghh the traitor, the general, the warrior. He’d changed so much from the first moment they’d met. It was hard to believe that he was the same troll. Finally, Aaarrrgghh figured out what he wanted to say._

**_“Dream Aaarrrgghh not able to give answer you need. Should probably ask real Aaarrrgghh.”_ **

_Ah, right, he was still dreaming…_

**_“Of course, how would you know if I didn’t,”_ ** _Bular sighed, the anticipation taking a toll on him. Closing his eyes and running a hand over his face, He wondered if he’d ever get an answer._

_He did, however, get something else._

_The smell of cloth, of soaps and lavenders, filled his senses. Opening his eyes, he saw dream Aaarrrgghh holding out a decently sized cloak to him. It wasn’t flesh, but Bular didn’t know if he wanted to risk going on a hunt just to find that_ Women _again._

_Before Aaarrrgghh could even push him into eating it, Bular wordlessly snatched the material and gnawed on it. Ugh, were cloaks normally this fluffy? He felt like he was eating a blanket._

_“_ **_Come,”_ ** _Dream Aaarrrgghh demanded, already turning away from Bular and the Bridge._ **_“Longer you here, longer this takes.”_ **

**_“So you’re here to escort me to...whoever the voice is,”_ ** _Bular guessed, nonetheless following his enemy. Getting only a snort in response, Bular just rolled his eyes and kept pace. Fine by him. The faster he got out of this nightmare the faster he could…_

_Well, he didn’t really know what he was gonna do? Did he?_

* * *

Aaarrrgghh stared at the door, nervously shuffling his hands together as he debated on ringing the doorbell or not. Would this be a good idea, should it? He hadn’t even introduced himself, but he didn’t know who else could help him right now. He’d already gone to Vendel, but his information had been all but final. There was nothing the elder could do for Aaarrrgghh, especially not in his current form. He didn’t even know if his human affliction was holding the creeper’s sun back or, if anything, speeding up the process.

So Aaarrrgghh went to the only other healer he knew.

Just as Aaarrrgghh had gathered up the courage, ready to knock on the door of Jim’s house, his green eyes widened in surprise as the door swung back. Stumbling into his arms, profusely apologizing to a person behind him, was Blinky. The duo locked eyes, their gazes shifting from surprised to confused. Behind Blinky, Aaarrrgghh could see Barbara, equally surprised but for entirely different reasons.

“Aaarr-” Blinky began, before catching himself and slurring a new name out of the crevices of his brain. “-rrrthur? What- What exactly are you doing here?”

Aaarrrgghh knew there was more truth to that statement, but it seemed as if Blinky’s inquiries would have to wait.

“Excuse me, Mr. Blinky, but do you know this...” Barbara began, but Aaarrrgghh cut her off by shooting his good hand past Blinky, out for the Doctor to shake. He tried to give the best, welcoming smile he could. From how she looked, however, he’d only done it somewhat successfully.

Draal was probably having a field day down stairs.

“Ah, this is my partner and dearest friend, Arthur.” Blinky, ever the smooth talker, replied. He step out from in between the two and gave Aaarrrgghh a swift friendly pat on his arm. He gave an extra, softer one when he noticed how stiff Aaarrrgghh’s arm even felt. Catching Aaarrrgghh’s small wince, Blinky shot a small concerned glance. Aaarrgghh gave the telltale smile of “talk later”.

Barbara quickly connected the dots.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, a little surprised but not at all shocked. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, Arthur. I was just talking to Blinky about how Jim’s doing at school. Honestly it’s really great to have a counselor so dedicated to his job.”

“Speaking of which,” Blinky cut in, once again giving Barbara that apologetic smile. “It seems that I am needed back at the school. One of the students is, well, in need of some guidance. Again, I am so sorry that our meeting about Jim is being cut short but-”

“I’ll stay,” Aaarrrgghh replied, giving Blinky a pat on his shoulder. Blinky opened his mouth to protest, but Aaarrrgghh knew that if it was anything like the “Cursed box” incident, that the gang would be fine. Besides, it gave him an excuse to get inside.

“Wha- But are you sure you can-”

Aaarrrgghh simply nodded, silencing Blinky’s stammering enough for the troll to weigh his options. It would due good to keep Barbara from being to concerned. After all, Blinky tried to assure her that nothing was wrong. Now if he took Aaarrrgghh with him, she might become even more suspicious…

“Well, if it is alright with Dr. Lake,” Blinky replied, turning his gaze back to her. “I can assure you that while Arthur may be less loquacious then most, he’s quite the listener. Plenty of students have gone to him with their woes, including Jim. ”

Barbara paused, her brow furling at the switch up. Thankfully after a few moments, she relented, and gave Blinky a nod. “That’s alright with me, seeing as something’s come up. But I would like to meet up with you again some time, Mr. Blinky.”

With a few more apologies and a guarantee that next time he wouldn’t run off, Blinky bid the duo adieu and scampered down the street. Aaarrrgghh waved him goodbye, wondering why he didn’t just cut through the forest like he had. Oh well, maybe he didn’t want to gather too much attention.

“Excuse me, but would you be alright with me just calling you Arthur? Or would you prefer Mr. Blinky as well.” Barbara began, drawing Aaarrrgghh’s attention back to the matter at hand.

Wait, now why would she want to call him Blinky? Weird.

“No, Arthur fine,” Aaarrrgghh replied, making his way into the house.

* * *

_Following Aaarrrgghh had started off easy at first. He’d simply gone back into the wood, following the path he’d laid all those years ago. By as they kept walking through the brambles and thickets, Bular noticed Aaarrrgghh got farther and farther away. Be tried to keep up, but strangely enough, it seemed like every tree branch was trying to stop him. He’d stumbled on more roots then he’d ever had in his life! And they even managed to snag his half eaten meal, the nerve!_

_By the time Bular had made it into a clearing, he’d long since lost track of Aaarrrgghh. He wasn’t even sure of where he was, save for the fact that it was still night outside._

_Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that there was a soft, babbling sound floating in the air. Almost like a brook, or a stream. Following the sound, Bular began to notice how the trees and underbrush began clearing out of his path. The light of the moon began to pick up in its brightness, blocking the rest of his view. For a moment, he wondered if he was finally waking up._

_But instead, his eyes adjusted, and the view that greeted him made him falter, just for a second._

_There was a small hut, made of stone and shingles, sitting peacefully across a small river. From inside the hut, a warm yellow glow followed from outside. The window showed the silhouettes of two people, two_ humans, _locked in an embrace. Faintly, their voices mixed together in a conversation Bular had practically forgotten. Yet he knew all the same of what would happen next..._

_He quickly turned away from sight, Bular could hear the lovers embrace as their talks silenced. He didn’t turn around when he heard the wooden door creak shut. And still, he didn’t turn as his friend let out a small gasp, just barely audible._

_Neither said anything, letting the brook babble for them._

_Bular soon felt a hand land on his shoulder, a trollish hand. Orange and worn and ever so familiar._

**_“My...My lord, I-”_ **

_Bular simply pulled away. Spinning to face Kodanth, he felt his emotions starting to get the best of him. Rage, confusion, hurt; it all burned inside of him. His past self had lashed out. But now, his older, wiser self?_

_Well, he cut to the chase and simply ran off._

_He didn’t have the time or the desire to unpack this emotional moment. It was over and done with anyhow. Not like he could have changed anything. Yet as he ran, he began to notice how the trees seemed to become larger, and his gait became smaller. Still, what startled him most was how his vision began to blur, and his eyes began to water._

_Letting out a snarl, Bular skid to a stop and, instinctively punched the neatest tree._

**_“Enough of this!”_ ** _he screamed, eyes screwed shut._ **_“Show yourself!”_ **

_Nothing answered his demands, nothing came to his call...and nothing seemed to dry up his tears. Pathetic, he was pathetic. Crying over someone who didn’t matter anymore. Crying like a weak, little whelp._

_Opening his eyes, Bular soon found himself in at the mouth of a cavern, it’s darkness vast and imposing compare to the night life of the forest. Yet, ever so faintly, a light shined outwards. It was a soft, welcoming green. Almost akin to moss or algae. Looking behind him, Bular took in the sight of the shady forest behind him. Deciding to put an end to this extended nightmare, Bular shuffled in._

_It was only then that he recognized where he was._

_Everything was blurred, as if he wasn’t truly there. He figured that, since he hadn’t been in these caverns since he was a whelp, his memories of it would be unfocused and clouded. It was still unsettling, wandering past familiar burrows and vague cavern paintings. He could even see the faint outlines of Gumm-Gumm’s moving about, most of them whelps and their guardians. Of course, this had been the place of his childhood. Back before his father fought Orlagk, back before Bular had gotten his duel blade, back before the troll could even properly fight._

_Moving deeper into the caverns, Bular noticed a green light starting to illuminate the cavern, filling in where crystals once glowed. However, each time he approached the odd balls of light, they would extinguish, and once again Bular would be left in the darkness. Picking up his face, Bular ran as fast as his now significantly smaller legs would allow him. Eventually he just gave up entirely and proceeded on all fours, trying to out pace the light._

_Eventually, he figured out where they were heading, and forgot about the lights entirely._

_Bular made his way to his old nest._

_He barely remembered how the burrow looked, and it showed. Pieces of it were mixed and mashed with other memories; some being the museum, the warehouse, or even parts of the barn. Relics mixed with vespa parts and laid haphazardly across human furniture and trollish weapons. It was an amalgamation of places he’d been to, and in the center of it all was a ball of light, pieces of itself spinning ever so carelessly._

**_“...Well?”_ ** _Bular tossed his hands into the air in exasperation._ **_“I’m here now. Speak or I’ll crush every floating piece of you.”_ **

**_“...Ah, as eloquent as your father, I see.”_ ** _Said the voice Bular had never heard before._

_The lights in the center of the room began to gather closer and closer. It was only now that Bular could see that they were shard like, almost akin to broken glass or a mirror. As they connected and took form, Bular noticed how they began to form a being, one Bular had no memory of. Yet the shape was rather familiar. With a final burst of green light, however, was when Bular finally “put the pieces together”._

_The figure, still glowing, still featureless, slowly floated to the ground. Bular had taken a step back._

**_“Impossible,”_ ** _Bular gasped, momentarily caught of guard. “_ **_You… you’re dead. My Father-”_ **

**_“Killed me?”_ ** _The figure replied, and a grin began to crack from his shattered form._ **_“I am well aware of that, Whelp.”_ **

_Instinctively, Bular let out a growl, not appreciating being talked down too. But then again, he couldn’t say much, not could he. Not in the form he was currently in. Still, like he was going to let his father’s first kill boss him around._

**_“How dare you-”_ **

**_“Hold it!”_ ** _The figure began, raising his hand up to silence Bular. Bular furled his brow, confused as to why the figure had stopped him. Before he could ask, however, the figure simply cut him off again. All the while, he made his way towards a sofa, the very same one from the farm house._ **_“Lemme just get comfortable real-!”_ **

**_“You can’t cut me-”_ ** _Once again, Bular was cut off, the hand now pushing the air once more._

**_“Shut!”_ **

**_“But-!”_ **

**_“Shh!”_ **

**_“I-”_ **

**_“Shhhhhh!”_ **

_Frustrated, Bular tried to let out a roar. Yet in his current form, his voice could barely even mange above a pathetic high pitch snarl. The figure simply stared, before letting out a snicker. Embarrassed, Bular tried to let out another roar, but the same results still stood. Worse, actually, not the ghost was laughing at him._

_Wonderful._

_It was roughly his third go that the figure stopped him, wiping ghostly tears from where his eyes probably were. By now he was sitting on the sofa, as if it was his very own throne._

**_“Stop, stop! You- You can talk now!”_ ** _The ghost cackled, shards clattering with each laugh._ **_“Before I laugh myself to pieces! Please!”_ **

_“_ **_Change me back to normal!”_ ** _Bular demanded, slamming his tiny fist down onto the ground._ **_“Change me back this instant or I’ll rip your head off your shoulders!”_ **

**_“HA!”_ ** _And once again, the ghost was stuck in a laughing fit._ **_“Great Gorgus, you think that’s gonna matter right now? You need to calm down, little one!”_ **

**_“I don’t care!”_ ** _Bular roared, or rather squeaked again,_ **_“You are to change me back this instant or...Or…”_ **

_The figure’s shattered grin turned into a broken smirk just as Bular realized his predicament. Bular’s face fell from anger to disgust, and the troll crossed his arms. The Figure simply laid his broken head on his busted arm, satisfied at his results._ **_“That’s right, you have no power here. Now be a good little whelp and mind or manners, or else.”_ **

**_“...Or else what,”_ ** _Ever defiant, Bular ended up grumbling out his retort rather than declaring it. He didn’t know why he was trying to hold his pride. Perhaps because it was all he had left._

**_“Or else I decide I rather end this and suck the last bit of energy out of you like a juice box.”_ **

_Bular stared at the shattered ghost before him, who nonchalantly shrugged as each of his detached fingers drummed on the sofa’s arm. The wonderful thing about being in a dream was that you never needed to blink. The horrible thing about being in a dream was that the person you were staring at didn’t need to blink ether. After what felt like an eternity, Bular crossed his arms and looked away._

**_“Then why haven’t you?”_ ** _Bular grumbled, taking a seat on the floor._ **_“Do you take amusement in my suffering, Shattered King?”_ **

_Once again, the figure let out a laugh._ **_“Oh you have_ ** **no** **_idea! But that’s not entirely the reason, of course…I needed to look though you memories to try and piece together what I’ve missed. And it seems that I’ve missed a_ ** **lot** **_of interesting developments. I mean, a fleshbag trollhunter?! How crazy is that!”_ **

_When the shattered king caught on that Bular wouldn’t be join in his excitement, he continued onwards._

**_“Besides, while it_ ** **would** **_be an excellent way at revenge, my fight isn’t with you, young one. No, why would I waste my time killing you when I can be used to aid Gunamr’s bane?”_ ** _By now the King had taken to examining his palm and with it, Bular noticed that there was an empty hole, shaped exactly as the Killstone._ **_“After all, you can’t destroy the Killstone. Not without destroying yourself in the process. We’re tethered and there’s nothing you can-”_ **

**_“But someone else can, correct?”_ **

**_“Pardon?”_ **

_Bular rose to his tiny feet, glaring defiantly at the Shatter King._

**_“Someone else can destroy the Killstone, even after you’ve used up all of my strength.”_ ** _Bular smirked, catching the fear rising in the ghost’s eyes._ **_“What, you think that I wouldn’t give up my life to keep my father safe? Fool.”_ **

**_“Now, now hold on, let’s be h-hasty,”_ ** _By now, the king had risen from his chushy throne, panic starting to rise in his eyes._ **_“I mean, there's no need to throw your life away like that-”_ **

**_“Ha! What do you care?”_ ** _Bular rose to his own feet, feeling empowered for the first time in ages._ **_“You’ve been reading my memories, you know once Otto figure it out, it’s inevitable.”_ **

**_“What- but- hold on…”_ **

**_“No,_ ** **You** **_hold on!”_ ** _Feeling himself gain the upper hand, he stalked towards the shattered king, feeling himself rise in stature as well._ **_“I am Bular the brutal! Son of Gunmar! Son of the first Heartstone! I have slaughtered thousands, vanquished Kanjigar, and survived every clash with sunlight I have ever faced! I will keep those I care about safe, and if that means taking you down with me, then so be it!”_ **

_With each sentence, Bular felt himself becoming more and more like his true self. His stature grew, his battle scars sunk in, and eventually his old limbs faded away. Having backed the ghost into the cavern wall, enough to have the poor fool shaking._

**_“Wha...Ah… but…”_ ** _The king started, eye holes wide and frightened, and for a moment, he seemed close to vanishing...But then, he seemed to calm himself. Stealing his gaze, the troll’s cracked maw gave what looked akin to a saddened smile._ **_“Of course, of course. How foolish of me. Any child of Gunmar is clearly too stubborn to be reasoned with. But...you said you wished to protect those you cared about?”_ **

_Bular paused, before nodding, letting out a snort in an effort to release his anger._

**_“What about the fleshbag child? Clearly your father would not approve-”_ **

**_“They are merely a debt,”_ ** _Bular declared, metal arm crossing over his living one._ **_“No more, no-”_ **

**_“Oh, please, don’t lie to me…You’ve gone well beyond what should be expected of a debt…”_ **

_Bular’s gaze narrowed, but he didn’t say anything to deny it. The shattered king took this as his que to continue. “_ **_You’ve been given something very few Gumm-Gumm’s ever get, Bular. You’ve been given a second chance. A shot at a peaceful, non-murder filled life. Now what you do with it is up to you. But just...don’t waste it, alright?”_ **

_Something in the air seemed to change. Now, instead of a cavern, the are smelled dry and stale, as if the air wasn’t really air at all. The dripping of water had all but faded, as a different, ticking noise filled the air. The shattered king once again put on that sad smile, starting to fade from view._

**_“Why are you telling me this?”_ ** _Bular asked, his vision starting to blur. “_ **_Had it been me in your place, I-”_ **

**_“Yes, yes, you’d kill me, I understand.”_ ** _The shattered king replied, voice ever so faint._ **_“But ...should a child pay for the crimes of their parent? Or simply for the crimes they’ve committed…It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”_ **

_Before Bular could even answer, the room vanished around him._

_And suddenly, he woke up._

* * *

Gazing around the room, Bular could only assume it was mid day. The heavy curtains had managed to block out most the sunlight, but their faint glow signaled as much. What really gatherers his attention was the cotton and fluff scattered around him, all over the ruined mattress and across the destroyed room. As he went to rise, to try and examine the damage, he felt a small weight on his back. Ever carefully, he used his living hand to brush the item off.

When it let out a small groan, shifting and settling back to sleep, that Bular realized it was the child, asleep on his back.

“She didn’t want you to eat all the blankets,” A voice called out, softer than usual. Bular turned his gaze to the doorway and spotted Otto. The changeling had heavy bags under his eyes and wrecked of coffee. “I tried to get her to sleep in the living room but...well, that didn’t go as well.”

“I see,” Bular mused, and despite having been asleep for countless hours, still felt tired. “What else did I miss?”

“Quite a lot, actually,” making his way into the room, Otto simply decided that sitting near the wall, on the floor, would be acceptable. “The most important being that Angor has found us out, somewhat. I managed to convince him that you two were changlings, but-”

“Fool,” Bular grumbled, but didn’t bother to raise his voice and yell at the changeling.

“What, and have him know that you were the son of Gunmar? Do you have a death wish?”

When Bular didn’t answer with a snappy retort, Otto felt his anger shift. Still, he was too tired to dig into all of that.

“Anyway, it seems he’s already trying to take Strickler out, as he had a plan before our discovered involvement.” Otto sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m currently on standby if, and only if, the Trollhunter doesn’t get the Inferna copula in three days time. Now, this of course, is not a good idea. With Angor having his soul, he’ll be free to attack any he pleases. Best case scenario is that he’ll be so obsessed with his soul that he’ll avoid our conflict and take Strickler out. Worst case is that he becomes a wild card. Which means that...”

And once again, Otto was off. Bular tuned his partner in crime out, instead favoring to focus on the wall behind him. Where Bular had once scratched out his battle plans, now they were covered in what appeared to be marker. The child must have done this while he was asleep. Interestingly enough, most of the plans were still legible. The only thing that was a new addition was that, where Bular had etched out his own form, he saw two stick figures drawn next to him. It took five minutes of squinting to figure out they were all holding hands.

He didn’t reach for the Killstone until Otto had left the building.

Holding the Killstone in his palm, he’d winced as his old would hissed with pain. For a moment, he thought to crush it once more…

But then, carefully, Bular sliced a small opening into the mattress. Shoving the relic between the cotton and springs, Bular placed a bit of cloth over it and called it done.

He’d destroy it once he found a way to sever the connection, of course.

Of course he would…

Of course.


	3. Trolls Night Out

When Bular woke up next, he had felt surprisingly far more well rested then he had before. Not only that, but for the first time that week, he had nary a dream to plague him. No, when Bular awoke, his wounds didn’t burn, his head didn’t pound, and his heart didn’t ache. There was, however, the distant buzzing of the television from the room over. It took him a few moments to realize what was being projected, and in that tile he’d rose off his sleeping and let out a yawn. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, his gaze fell on the covered window. Noticing how it’s early glow was all but vanquished, Bular shuffled over to gain a better look. 

It was dark. The sun had vanished from the sky, leaving it as dark as his living stone. The street lights, casting their soft orange glows, flickered like cheap stars. 

He’d remembered this sight oh so well. After all, he’d stalked these streets for years. He knew how to get to and from unseen, just like the back of his hand. 

And, for some reason, he felt like doing so again. 

Making his way into the living room, Bular felt his limbs groan and crack, stiff from laying for so long. Perhaps it was time for another night out. His gaze fell upon the couch, and the small child drawing away on a piece of paper. Ink having made its way onto the furniture as well as a little bit of the walls. Quietly making his way over, he peered over the whelp’s shoulder to see what exactly she was drawing. 

It was of Draal, currently getting pummeled by Bular himself. Despite himself, Bular couldn’t help but chuckle, alerting his charge of his presence. 

“Bular!” Trisha gasped, spinning around to fully gaze at the warrior. Before he could do anything, the child scrambled over the well worn couch cushions, wrapping her arms around Bular’s neck in the closet form of a hug she could give. Bular, now more accustomed to these “hugs”, didn’t tense up as he had before. Now he simply rolled his eyes and waited for the Whelp to let go. “You’re ok!” 

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Bular questioned, reaching up and pulling the child off of him. He was only slightly surprised by how careful he was. 

By now Trisha had learned that there was no point in trying to cling when Bular held on, but she still sis so anyway. With a few gentle tugs, the child was left hanging by the back of her shirt. She didn’t seem annoyed by the change in the slightest. “Otto said you were sick, and you wouldn’t wake up no matter what we did!” 

“...Ah, I see.” 

In a way, he had been sick. It wasn’t uncommon for trolls who were low on energy to go into fits of hibernation. This was usually due to the pack, which Bular often ignored, and the fact that Heartstones were hard to come by. If a troll didn’t gain their energy from ether a Heartstone itself or from human flesh, their bodies would shut down to save and store their energy. It had happened to him a few times, mostly on the way from the new world, but nothing more then a week or two. He made certain back then to keep up as best he could.

His mind flickers back to the Killstone under the bed, how even now it remained, reformed and waiting for it’s fate. 

“I got better,” Bular answered truthfully, trying his best to be reassuring. Setting the child down on the floor, Bular tried to roll his shoulder, mostly in an effort to get the stiffness out. Yes, it was very much time to leave the confines of the small hut. “Gather your bat and some snacks. It’s time we resumed your training.” 

“Wait, like, outside?!” Trisha gasped, eyes lighting up in the dark of the room. Or from the Television, Bular couldn’t exactly tell. Yet just as quickly, they faded into concern. “But what about Draal? And that other guy Otto was talkin’ about?”

“Other guy?” Bular began, before the contents of Otto’s earlier briefing hit him. Ah, correct, Angor Rot. Who thought he and the child were Changelings as well. He’d forgotten about him. “Angor Rot has no quarrel with us. Besides, He and Draal are probably too focused with the Trollhunter. We should be fine as long as we stay away from his hut.” 

“Oh, okay!” 

And within a matter of minutes, the duo were making their way out the door and into the streets. Catching the microwave clock before he left, Bular noted how the time was roughly around eleven at night. He’d have to keep watch for any Fleshbags still running about, yet those were usually the easiest to deal with. He just wouldn’t be able to eat any witness with the child nearby. He would just have to watch out for Strickler, or the Trollhunter if he was, in fact, out. Although that shouldn’t be too hard. 

“I assume you’ve already explored parts of Arcadia during the day, correct?” Bular began, making his way down the empty road without a care in the world. He listened as Trisha trailed behind, flip flops clapping on the sidewalk. He slowed down slightly, mostly for her sake.

“A little, when I snuck out that one time,” Trisha said, quickly rushing to walk by his side. “But I only stayed around here, cause Mr. Aaarrrgghh said that the apartments were still down town.” 

Taking that into thought, Bular fiddled with a few ideas before he settled on one. “In that case, tonight we will stay in the woods. It will be easier to work on your stealth and observance first, and there will be less like of a chance on a surprise discovery in the wilderness.” 

  
“Oh cool! So we’re gonna play hide and seek again!” 

Bular scowled, rolling his eyes once more. What was it with this child and turning these training sessions into games? Perhaps she was simply too young to grasp the importance now, he assumed. “Yes.” 

As Trisha cheered, Bular decided to cross the street. By now they’d arrived to where the forest bordered the town. Or, at the very least, where it formed a decent space between the suburbia of Arcadia. He’d remembered when it was nothing but trees here, when Arcadia was barely a settlement. But now, it had grown rather large. How long would it be, till they knocked down this part of the forest as well. He couldn’t even pretend that his kind would not do the same, and the fact that they did do as such didn’t fill him with malice. No…

It just made him feel old.

Gorgus did he hate that feeling.

“Child, get on.” Bular commanded, lowering himself slightly so the little brat to scramble on. “It’ll be faster this way.”

While that part was true, Bular just wanted to feel as if he wasn’t old. And what better way then to go for a quick run, getting the heart pumping and feeling the wind pass you by. Trisha put up no argument, as she was already crawling up onto Bular’s shoulders and grabbing hold of his hair. He could hear her grandfather’s watch ticking away, faint but persistent. Making sure she wouldn’t fall off, Bular got into a running position and, with a second to spare, bolted as fast as he could. The child behind him let out laugh, hands gripping ever tighter.

If anyone saw him like this, especially his father, he’d never lived this down. But right now, he didn’t have it worry about that. He didn’t have to worry about his father or the Trollhunter or his status. He just had to run, and make sure the tiny child clinging to his scruff wasn’t going to fall off. 

He didn’t have to be Bular the Brutal, the Vicious, the slayer of Kanjigar and many, many more. 

He could just be Bular. 

For some reason, that didn’t seem so bad...

* * *

_ “I’m sorry Arthur but, well I...I’ve honestly never seen this type of reaction before. I really recommend you go to the hospital. As a matter of fact I can-”  _

_ “No, No. It fine. Sorry to bother.” _

Aaarrrgghh played the words over and over in his head, feeling his worries rise with it. By now, the Creeper’s sun had spread down to his knees, inches from his wrist, and spreading across his chest and back. He settled on wearing a jacket to keep the stone and bandages from showing, but it still stinged with each graze. It didn’t sting more than the fact that there truly was nothing he could do about this.

There was nothing anyone could do about this. 

He couldn’t just sit on that, but of course he couldn’t tell anyone. He needed to let off some steam, to really feel like himself again.

And what a perfect way to do that then to go get trashed at a party?

The one advantage his new stature gave him was the fact that, surprisingly, most trolls didn’t notice him or Blinky. Probably due to their smaller height. Either way, when he was sitting at Grogs, trying to stomach downa drink he’d used to be able to swallow in an instant, he’d overheard Bagdwella spreading the news of a party happening on the topside.

It was just what he needed!

Or, well, so he thought.

Now at the party, Aaarrrgghh realized he wasn’t exactly in the best shape to be pushed and slammed around. Still, he tried his best to dance while no one was watching, and drink like the glug didn’t make his guts turn on themselves. It was only when he went to participate in Pummeling hour that he had to call it quits, seeing as his one good fist collided with stony chest and, naturally, felt like it shattered.

“Sorry big guy,” NotEnrique had apologized, but more with the tone of mirth rather then genuine sorry. “Ya sure partied like a Troll, but you really ain’t one right now.”

Despite Aaarrrgghh knowing better, the comment still stung. It stung more than his hand or his wound, biting him right in the heart. Once again, he found himself an outsider amongst his own people.

And so here he was, laying down in the Nunez’s lawn and looking up at the sky. The party still seemed to be going strong, no doubt by the pounding music and the sounds of laughter. It probably would continue till the the sun threatened to rise, and a hoard of trolls would scatter out into the woods, disappearing from the world above.

Maybe that was one of the bonus of this situation. At least he didn’t have a set curfew anymore, neither did Blinky. And at least the grass felt soft under his free hand, far softer than it ever had before. Perhaps being a human wasn’t all to bad of a way for him to spend his last few days, or however long he had…

Perhaps, even though he knew the matter at hand, he should spend some time with Blinky and Toby and the gang. He’d been running away long enough, why not enjoy the time he had left with the people he cared for the most. After all, he already knew Blinky suspected something, it would be a matter of time before he caught on.

Rising shakily to his feet, Aaarrrgghh took one determined step towards the woods…

And promptly puked.

Alright, maybe he would leave in the next few moments, once the world stopped spinning.

* * *

With the night sky above him, Bular kept his gaze ahead and his ears open. With the stillness that the forest provided, with only crickets chirping away instead of the sound of humanity, he knew that the slightest rustle or twig snap could be his opponent. It seemed that she was starting to finally learn about how to properly use her environment, as it had taken him a little longer to find her the first few times then before. Likewise, she was getting better at figuring out where he hid, although he could still her with those horrible shoes she wore.

Strangely, he found himself keeping score.

Even more strange was that he was more proud of improvement then anything. 

Perhaps this is what it felt to be a teacher, feeling pride in your pupil’s progress…

Perhaps this was why Strickler stuck with the same, sniveling job...

Catching a whiff of something in the air, Bular stopped in his tracks. Taking in the scent, he felt the smirk fall upon his face as he stalked, once again, a nearby tree. He gazed up at the branches, trying to see if Trisha was once again resting in them. He didn’t.

However, the child’s backpack was there, hanging carelessly on the branches.

Before he could even react, he felt something whack him in his side, right where the Trollhunter’s wound was. The quick strike, partnered with the fact that the wound still stung from the Killstone’s magic, caused Bular to falter. Leaning against the tree, his one knee still hit thr ground with a thud.

Instantly, the baseball bat fell onto the soft grass, a small gasp coming from his side.

“Bular!” Trisha gasped, no doubt shocked that she’d caused her friend to fall. Already she was rushing to his side, those soft green eyes full of concern. “Are you okay? I-I didn’t meant to...I’m sorry.”

“S...sorry?” Bular rasped, his shocked look turning into a pride filled, almost excited smile. “Whelp, why on earth would you be sorry? You did great!”

“...I did?”

Still smiling, Bular turned to put his back to the tree, sliding down to the floor to catch his breath. He even let out a laugh, ruffling the naive child’s hair in the process. “Not only did you use a decoy, but you managed to locate a weakness and take advantage of it! Where were you even hiding, little one? Hm?”

And once again, the Trisha’s eyes lit up, and with as much excitement as Bular had, she quickly pointed to the trunk of the tree, more so, to the burrow where the roots were. “Right there! I- I remember you told me that trolls smell really really good so I just figured that-”

“Excellent,” Bular laughed, actually laughed, and allowed himself to enjoy it. “You...you really are learning.”

“Well, duh,” Trisha replied, joining his laugher with her own. “You’re a good teacher.”

As Trisha scrambled up the tree to fetch her pack, Bular something within him beam. Ah, alright, that was a little bit to much emotion, better shove that down. Didn’t want the whelp to get to big of a head, now did he. Bular still kept a prideful smirk, even as he settled down and closed his eyes for a few moments rest.

It wasn’t until he heard sketching that they cracked open, and Bular caught the child drawing once more.

“You’re still working on that scribble?” Bular asked, trying to play of his curiosity as annoyance.

“Nah, I’m workin on a new one,” Trisha replied, only occasionally bothering to look up at the Gumm-Gumm. It was after the third time that he realized she had that same look the first time she drew him; one eye closed, thumb held out, tongue sticking out. Ridiculous.

And yet this time, he couldn’t bother to ridicule her for it.

He closed his eyes once more, pretending he hadn’t spotted her. Still, after a few moments, he felt something begin to nag at him at the back of his mind. It took him a few seconds to figure it out. “You did pack some food, correct?”

“Yeah, I got some Candy bars.”

A few moments passed between them. Bular felt his face turning into a scowl.

“Is that all you brought?”

“...Maybe.”

Letting out a sigh, Bular’ good hand rose up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Bular wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t know humans needed more than one type of food. Hell, he’d lived with her for almost two months now. He knew that “candy” was not what she needed right now. And it wasn’t like he could just send her into any store, seeing as most human places were closed by now.

“ _ Bushigal _ ,” Bular mumbled under his breath, before opening his eyes and turning to the child. “You know you can’t live off candy bar’s, right?”

“You live off of meat,” Trisha retorted, still not bothering to look up from her “artwork”. “What’s the dif-fer-ence?”

Bular’s stare turned into a glare. “For Trolls, meat isn’t candy. It sustains us. It’s not my fault your flimsy human body’s require so much  _ variety _ .”

Finishing off the last part with an annoyed shake of his head, he rolled his eyes as the child once again let out a fit of laughter. He rose to his feet once more, making a grab for the child’s bat. “Yes, laugh all you like. But now our break is being cut short.”

“Aw what?!”

“Pack your things, we’re going to get you some dinner. And on the way, we’ll be working on your Trollspeak, understood?”

Normally, Bular wouldn’t have cared on what the whelp ate, or even how much she did. But something in him just wouldn’t let him be content of the child didn’t get a proper meal, whatever that would be. Maybe this...caring thing, was getting a little too out of hand.

No, that’s stupid. He’s a rational adult who knows how to manage taking care of a brat and conquering the world.

“But I left Otto’s credit card at home,” Trisha, unaware of Bular’s inner debate, had begrudgingly shuffled her thing back into her back and climbed back up Bular’s back. WIth a huff, she rested her head on his horns and pouted. “And I don’t wanna go eat the stuff at home.”

Odd, when had the apartment been considered home?

“Well,” Bular started, already making a slow walk through the woods, an idea gracing his mind. He remembered there was a small patch of wild berries, growing not too far from here. Humans ate berries, right? “First of all, stop complaining. Warriors don’t pout. Second of all, you should always be prepared. Next time bring a proper meal. Actually...that should be a word you’d need to know, meal in Troll speak is  **Meal** .”

“ **Me...Meal?”** Trisha fumbled with the word for a few moments, before settling on its pronunciation. “ **Meal...meal…** wait, why do I need to know that?”

“In case someone wishes to make you one.” Bular replied, expecting worry and fear. Yet instead, the child merely scoffed. But Bular didn’t focus on that.

He focused on a new sound. The sound of heavy footsteps, of panicked yelps and laughter. Of slurred, sobering words and-

_ Was that Glug he smelled?! _

By now the scrabbling of feet were getting closer, far to much for Bular’s comfort. Looking around, he tried to find something he could shelter himself and the child in. While his naturally dark living stone made for perfect camouflage, the shade the moon threw offered only little in cover. If anyone bumped into them, then they’d be found.

He could take whoever came his way, especially if they were sloshed. But the child was small, and although quick, could be easily crushed if she ended up in their path.

By now, Trisha had picked up on the new sounds as well. Her once pride fill boasting turned into fear, and her grip tightened onto his mane. “Bular? What’s-”

“Quiet,” Bular commanded, still looking for a shadow big enough to hide them. His efforts were rewarded with two trees, with a decent enough space between then for a Bular sized troll to take shelter. Making his way over, Bular quickly pulled the child off his back and, in a fluid motion, curled over them.

He hated this. Hiding like a coward. Hiding like someone weaker, lesser. But like hell was he going to  _ run _ away! He wanted to see exactly where these fools were coming from. Besides, it made him feel better if he thought of it as, well, waiting for a surprise attack.

Before he could think anymore over the fact, the first set of trolls feet darted past. He heard the child gasp, but Bular himself said nothing, watching as another, and another troll darted past. It was almost like a stampede, multiple flashes of different colored stone moving before their eyes. All up until a troll, in their drunken panic, scrambled over Bular like a boulder.

Buckling into place and biting his cheek, Bular refused to make a sound as the troll made his way over and off into the night. His gaze fell down to the child who, while at first was panicked, now watched with wonder in her eyes. Her hands still covered her mouth, no doubt in her own effort to stifle her scream. But by now she was even trying to get a better look of the stone giants rushing past.

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was over.

With a few screeches and laughs into the night, the trolls were gone. All that remained was the quiet of the night, Bular, and his charge.

Waiting just a few more minutes till the coast was all clear, Bular stretched back up and let out a groan. His back expressed his sentiments by cracking in time, and he winced at a rather sore spot near his spine. Ah, well, nothing a meat binge wouldn’t fix.

“That...was…” Trisha began, slowly standing up. Already, Bular could hear the excitement shaking her voice. Or, rather, the aftershock, “...amazing! Did you seem them all! Bular there were so many! Do you know them? Are they the trollmarket trolls?! Why were they out here?! They didn’t even notice us! What do their faces look like?! Do they all have Big horns like you? What were they running from? Why didn’t you yell at them? Why wasn’t-”

And once again she was off, asking more questions that Bular cared to answer. But there was one that stuck out amongst the rest.

“...what  _ were _ they running from?” Bular mused out loud, gaze slowly turning to the direction the Trolls came from.

* * *

He’d been about three steps up from the ground when he heard the sound of police sirens. He’s been four steps towards the back door when a stampede of trolls forced it open and him against the wall. And it had taken only minutes for them to disperse into the night, leaving him aching and slumped against the house. 

Claire had found him when she went to turn off the back light.

“Hey Aaarrrgghh,” She began, her voice soft and sympathetic. From the looks of things, she seemed rather tired as well. “You gonna be okay?”

Aaarrrgghh simply nodded, still trying to keep himself from seeing double. After that proved to be too difficult, he settled for keeping his gaze on the patio, good hand shielding his eyes. Goodness, was Glug this bad for Humans?

He heard Claire take a seat next to him. A few moments later, his view of the patio was obscured by a plastic cup filled with water. Mumbling a thank you, Aaarrrgghh carefully grabbed the beverage and downed it in seconds. A few more minutes passed…

“Sorry,” Aaarrrgghh said, gaze still focused on the ground. “For not helping.”

“It’s fine. From what NotEnrique said, it looks like you needed it…”

If Aaarrrgghh was a Troll, he was certain his mane would be standing on its ends. Did Not Enrique know about the creeper’s sun? He’d thought he made sure to cover up the affliction, but what if he hadn’t. What if Claire already knew? She was sharp for her age, perhaps she’d read about it and-

“I mean, the culture shock alone has probably been rough.” Claire finished up, using that tone that implied her mind was racing with an idea a minute. Aaarrrgghh quickly relaxed as he caught on that, no, Claire did not know about his wound. “You miss being a Troll, don’t you?”

Turning to face their newest member of their team, Aaarrrgghh caught her wondering gaze focused on the sky, and all the stars above them. He wished he could talk better. But they’d just have to settle for how well he could talk now.

“A little,” Aaarrrgghh admitted, remembering all the times he flubbed up being a “normal” human. “But not bad. Just...miss being useful.”

“What?! Aaarrrgghh, you’re totally useful, what are you talking about?”

“Nuh-uh,” Aaarrrgghh shook his head, his movement carrying a little more then he meant for them too, “Can’t fight like normal. Can’t run like normal.”

Before he realized it, he was looking down at his hands. One starting to stone, the other worn from age. He wondered if he had been a troll, would things have been different? Would he have avoid Angor Rot’s Blade? Could he have saved Jim from Angor Rot’s trap?

“ **Can’t** **protect** …”

He was too drunk for this.

“No your not,” Instantly, Aaarrrgghh felt Claire sympathetically pat his shoulder. He did his best to hide his wince. “You’ve been there in ways that nobody else can, Aaarrrgghh. You’re practically the whole team’s rock!”

“...rock?”

“Literally I can count the number of times we’d be an emotional  _ mess _ without you,” Claire continued, trying to give him the best smile she could. “Toby practically goes on and on about how you’re always there for him. Jim too, when Blinky’s ether busy with Vendel or just wrapped up in researching. You’re always the first to make sure we don't over work ourselves, or over stress.”

Aaarrrgghh felt his eyes begin to water. He really  _ was  _ too drunk for this.

“You’re not useless Aaarrrgghh,” Claire wrapped up, rising to her feet before offering Aaarrrgghh a hand. In her other was her phone, the screen alight. “You protect our sanity just as much as the rest of us. And i’m sorry no one’s told you sooner.”

Instead of simply rising to his feet, Aaarrrgghh reached over and pulled Claire into a bear hug, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Claire didn’t seem startled by it, simply hugging Aaarrrgghh back and offering a few pats.

When he pulled away, his gaze fell back to the woods, good hand quickly trying to wipe away the tears springing from his eyes. What had he done to meet such good people, he wondered to himself. If anything, they were- wait…

What was that?

Did he just hear someone whispering?

“Hey Jim, just calling to let you know the party’s been taken care off,” Claire, unaware of what was going on, had pulled out her phone to converse with Jim. “Also that, unless anyone wants to come pick him up, I think Aaarrrgghh’s gonna crash here for tonight. How’s Toby doing by the way?”

There was something in the treeline. He could vaugle see it, but not completely. The way the light projected onto the trees, and the amount of darkness the shadows held. Something about it all was, well… off. Aaarrrgghh squinted at the sight, his vision still foggy from the Glug and tears. He should have just blown it all off, but something about it just rubbed him the wrong way. Almost as if he’s seem something like that before…

Or more importantly, someone who…

“Oh, wow, really? Maybe it’s for the best, seeing as he was literally eating the words of the pag-”

Aaarrrgghh took a fee stumbling steps in between Claire and the woods, his gaze trained to the spot. It was only when he moved that he notices a gleam reflect off of a part of the shadows. A gleam that wasn’t the different blades of grass, or any trash at all. Before he can say anything, a pair of yellow-red eyes opened wide, and the two are locked in a standoff.

Normally, Bular would have already made some sort of flashy declaration of slaughter. Yet instead, he seemed to be waiting as well, just as shocked as Aaarrrgghh was. Perhaps he figured Aaarrrgghh was a human...No, if he’d been waiting long enough, he would have figured out Aaarrrgghh was not, in fact, human at all. But then why did he hesitate?

Aaarrrgghh quickly weighed his options.

“Go Inside,” Aaarrrgghh said, voice low and eyes glued on Bular, as if that would keep him there. But before Claire could even say a word back, the spell had been undone. Bular rose to his feet and, with a stride only impeded by a new leg, sauntered into the light.

He looked different. Far more then he had after all those years. Where his scruff had once been left to itself, was now braided with beads. His new arm and leg also struck as cord in Aaarrrgghh, as while Draal’s had been made by Troll hands, Bular’s had not. Their style and shape clashed with each other, yet seem to fit Bular perfectly. Yet what stuck out the most was the small rivets of cracks that sparked from the wound in Bular side, now having healed into a deep purple. What should have been a fatal wound.

“Go ahead,” Bular growled, eyes locking onto Claire with finalized intent. An evil grin growing on his face. “Run away, fleshbag, and seal his fate.”


	4. Stricker's Got No Damn Idea What's Commin' His Way

Claire had never met Bular before. 

Sure, she had heard the stories, or read about his vicious attacks from history books. Not to mention the few depictions of him in those books provided a general shape. And when Jim spilled the beans about Bular, in fact, not being dead...well, she knew she’d see him eventually. She’d even steeled herself for it, seeing as she knew they’d probably “meet” under less than friendly circumstances. 

Still, she couldn’t stop herself for freezing for a moment. 

It was like looking at a shadow that’d grown embers for eyes. While there were parts of him that stood out, the silver of his leg, the leather wrapped around his good arm, it still took her eyes a moment to see the rest of him. At least, until he took another step towards them, fangs bared in a smug smile as he came fully into the light.

He looked between her and Aaarrrgghh, waiting to see what either of them would do. But when his eyes fell back to her, she realized he wasn’t looking at her as a equal. Or, even as a person. 

He saw her merely as food. 

“ _ -we’re on our way!”  _

Snapping back to reality, Claire had just a moment to realize what Jim had said before she heard her friend hang up. Eyes shifting between Aaarrrgghh and the door, she felt her resolve strengthen. 

Mentally, however, she was cursing herself. She’d left her Shadow staff at upstairs. If she could just get inside, then maybe…

“And I thought you’d be unable to sink any lower,” Bular growled, now keeping his gaze solely focused on Aaarrrgghh. His smile had shifted into a sneer. “To turn against my father is one thing, but this? Glammoring yourself as a Fleshbag? Have you no shame?” 

“Nope,” Aaarrrgghh responded back, standing his ground even as Bular was right in front of him. Not a shred of fear seemed to be in his gaze, at least from what Claire could tell. Even when Bular glared down at him, his horns inches away from Aaarrrgghh’s eyes. 

For a few tense moments, no one moved. Not until Bular pulled away, brow furrowed in confusion. Why hadn’t he attacked yet, they were sitting ducks?!

“Girl,” Bular grumbled, turning back to her with an unimpressed look. “Fetch me some glug and fruits.” 

Claire blinked. 

“Wait, what?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Bular said, louder this time. He made a move to step towards her, but Aaarrrgghh stepped between them. Surprisingly, Bular made no move to attack him, or even to push him aside. The tension in the air was still thick, however, even through the simple request. 

“Um... Alright then,” Claire replied, carefully backing towards the door. “Let me see if we have anything left.”

Within moments, she felt the screen mesh hit the palm of her hands, and instantly, she spun on her heels and rushed inside. She couldn’t waste this opportunity, not now. Her mind raced as fast as her legs, wondering how she would get them out of this.

She could teleport Bular somewhere, but she wasn’t sure she could make a portal that big. Sure, she was feeling a lot, but it wasn’t any anger. If anything, it was fear. Not to mention, where could she send him? 

Sure, she and Aaarrrgghh could leave, but Bular still knew where her house was. And she didn’t have a troll to guard it like Jim and Toby did. Not to mention, would any troll even try to? Of course not! Everyone had been terrified of Bular! If anything, they would still be scared!

Not to mention her parents, who had no idea about any of this, would be back in a few days. 

Maybe she could send Bular far away, giving them a few days to figure out what to do. She hadn’t tried teleporting past Arcadia, but maybe she’d get lucky and shoot him somewhere without shade. But again, she needed to make a portal big enough. 

She had to. 

Rushing into her bedroom, Claire dashed for her shadow staff, it’s silvery form reflected by the moonlight. Flicking it into it’s true form, she once again dashed back towards the stairs, but froze. Taking a few more steps back, she caught NotEnrique, garbage bag in his tiny hands, watching the window out to the backyard. 

An idea flashed in her head.

Making her way over, she knelt so that Bular would spot her in the window. She did, however, startle Not Enrique, who almost jumped right off the still.

“Hey! Ya got any idea how spooked I am right now?!” He’s whispered harshly, ears flattened down to his skull. 

“I know, I know, sorry,” Claire apologize, trying to get into position. It was a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, she could get a portal opened from here, she just needed Bular to take a few steps away from Aaarrrgghh.

“Why’re they here anyway?” Not Enrique groaned, eyes are slits in as he watched in fear. “You blokes lead ‘em here, didn’t ya? Oh I knew I shoulda-”

“No, he probably saw the stampede of trolls and got curious. Calm down.” Claire took her aim, until she seemed to realize what Not Enrique exactly said. “Wait, they?” 

“Yeah, see the brat in the branches?” 

Claire’s eyes narrowed, turning her gaze away from the huge murder troll and back to the forest. It took her a few moments, peering into the branches, until she caught sight of something. From Aaarrrgghh’s spot, there was no way he’d be able to see her, unless he was looking that is. But from her, she was wide open. It was a kid, dirty and covered in scrapes, but a kid nonetheless. 

No, not a kid, a Changeling. 

“You know her?” Claire asked, taking her staff and now aiming it at the hideaway. If she was here, were there others? Were they surrounded? Why was she still in her human disguise? Wouldn't they recognize her if she stayed like that?

Not Enrique shook his head, gaze turning back to Bular and Aaarrrgghh. They still seemed to be in an argument, but they were keeping it quiet enough that Claire couldn’t hear. “Nope. Strickler ‘n the other’s had a bit of a time limit before newbies got to meet the others changelings. Kept loose lips from spreadin’ tall tales n’ all.” 

“And did you see anyone else?” 

“Nah, but...well, you know how it is.” 

“Right, right.” 

She could shoot the changeling right now. Maybe if she sent it elsewhere, it’s distract Bular for her to shoot a portal under him as well. She was still working on it, but maybe, if she was lucky, she could sent them to Goto’s keep. No, that wouldn’t work, Bular might be able to bully Goto into lending his minions. Not to mention they had no idea if there were more changeling surrounding them. Sure, they could hold him off until Jim got there, but then what would happen to Aaarrrggh! He was still...

Wait…

“Oh,” Claire said to herself, aiming the shadow staff under Aaarrrgghh instead. “Okay, new plan. We’re gonna have to retreat.” 

“Retreat, how are we-” NotEnrique paused, finally turning his gaze towards the shadow staff. “Oh, right.”

* * *

Bular didn’t like relying on others. Bular hated it, in fact. As much as he loved being severed, even if it was by the lowly changelings, he hated having to wait. Sure, patience was a virtue, but he already knew the Trollhunter was on his way. And he couldn’t storm the hut with the child watching, as she’d throw a fit. And if Aaarrrgghh saw her, well, then he’d know where they lived. 

And he couldn’t have that.

So he’d expected the girl to go through with his request. After all, now that Aaarrrgghh was soft and fleshy, Bular could rip him apart in seconds. He hated to bluff, and probably wouldn’t have even tried to if this exchange had happened a few months ago. 

But he was not the troll he was then. 

Still, while they waited, Bular decided to prod a little more. 

**“I can smell you, you know.”**

Aaarrrgghh didn’t say anything, still glaring a Bular. It pissed Bular off, and for a moment, he entertained the idea of tossing the fool to the ground. But he couldn’t. Not with the peering green eyes behind him. He could still use trollspeak, however. The child would only capture a few words, but it’d leave their conversation mostly private. 

**“I knew you regret your glory days,”** Bular growled, hands crossing as he waited.  **“But for you to...do whatever this is, it’s a disgrace. ”**

Again, Aaarrrgghh didn’t say anything. Bular rolled his eyes and glanced back at the door. He could see the kitchen right there, where was that girl? He went to peer in more, but Aaarrrgghh blocked his view. 

**“You’re a disgrace,”** Aaarrrgghh finally said, and despite everything, Bular felt his blood boil that he didn’t seem as afraid as he used to be. Back when he was a troll, back when he was Trollmarket’s pacifist pet, he’d startle and panic at the sight of Bular. 

But now, despite being several times shorter, he stood taller then he had in quite some time. 

**“Glad to see you finally grew a spine,”** Bular said, and surprisingly he meant it.  **“It’ll be fun to rip it from your back.”**

And for a moment, Aaarrrgghh looked like he was about to say something. For a moment Aaarrrgghh looked as if he was about to bark out a “try me”, or maybe even slug him in the nose. But before ether could make a move, Aaarrrgghh flashed out of existence. 

Well, that was a lie. 

It was more like he fell, as he sunk into the ground. Where he once stood, a dark portal remained. And just as quickly as it had opened, it closed. Bular blinked for a second, comprehending that  _ that _ just happened as he jerked his head around, looking for some sort of sign as to where Aaarrrgghh could have landed. Yet he didn’t appear anywhere around him. 

“What?” Bular responded, gazing around. “What?!” 

Then, faintly, Bular heard it, another wrap of a portal. He hadn’t noticed it a second ago, but it came with a distinct sound, like the world softly splitting apart. Catching a flash in one of the bedroom windows, Bular figured out that that must have been where Aaarrrgghh was. 

Eyes be damned, he was charging inside. 

The hut was a mess, the remnants of the party laid bare for him to see. Yet he paid it no mind, not even when he crushed it’s contents under him. He wasn’t going to let Aaarrrgghh get away again, not that easily. He should have known better, he should have realized the girl wasn’t a simple girl. 

He needs to stop underestimating kids. 

Making it to the top of the stairs, and into the room no less, Bular saw another portal closing before he could even make his way towards it. In it’s wake was an empty room, full with one ticked Gumm-Gumm. For a moment, Bular wondered if they were anywhere in the house. But when a moment of silence lead to no new noises, save the familiar sound of flip flops on cement...well, Bular knew when he’d let them get away. 

Well, they left him a hut, primp for a tantrum. But he already knew his time would be cut short. The Trollhunter would be on his way. And while he thirsted for a good fight, he couldn’t handle the whelp getting in the way. 

He settled by flipping the bed, sending cotton and feather flying with his claws. 

By the time Trisha had rushed up to the top floor, he’d decimated the mattress into piles of foam, shredded every pillow, and knocked down both bedside lamps, eating the bulbs in return. 

“Did you see that?!” Trisha exclaimed, eyes wide. 

“Of course I did,” Bular replied sarcastically, spitting out a bite’s worth of foam before rising to his feet. 

“Why didn’t you tell me trolls could teleport?!” Trisha asked, still in awe. 

“Because we can’t. Not usually,” Bular replied, reaching over and snatching Trisha by the back of her shirt. Like clockwork, he placed her on his shoulder and ducked down. “The girl must have been a witch. I disregarded her, but that’s the only way he-” 

“Witches are real?!” 

“My ear is right where you’re yelling!” Bular snapped, letting out an annoyed huff. His words were met with an apology and a pat on his horns. It was degrading, being treated like some pet to be soothed. But when he saw her sincerity, well...he just couldn’t find it in him. “Just...watch your tone. We need to leave.”

“Leave, but we just got here?” 

“Yes, and the TrollHunter isn’t too far away,” Bular replied, making it to the kitchen and flinging the fridge open. It was a mess, but there were things Bular recognized as editable. “Alright, pick something. We’re not leaving her empty handed.”

“Isn’t this stealing?” Trisha asked, and Bular found himself surprised that she’d ask that now, of all time. Thankfully, it wasn’t. Because a prideful Gumm-gumm did not steal food, that was only for the weak and cowardly. No, they were doing something far different. 

“Child,” Bular began, motioning to the room they were in. “When in battle, if you successfully kill or chase your enemy away from their camp, then you are not  _ stealing _ . You are reaping the rewards of a raid.” 

He’d been apart of plenty of raid in his youth, and even in his prime. Of course, after Kilahead, Bular didn't exactly have anyone to raid with, but he’d never forget the rules that came with a raid. Sadly, he couldn’t exactly defend him and the child when the reinforcements arrived. Nonetheless, Trisha seemed to accept the excuse, at least somewhat, and began to look through the fridge with mild curiosity. After a few moments, some drawer opening, and rummaging through the rest of the kitchen; they’d managed to collect a decent bounty that was acceptable to both standards.

On their way out, Bular tried to search for anything of value in the living room. Sadly, all his efforts rewarded him were trash and socks. He scowled as he crushed perfectly good glass under his foot. Why Trollmarket trolls preferred socks of all things when other foods laid around them would always remain a mystery to him. He thought to check the upper floors, but time wasn’t on their side. Soon, the troll hunter would be here. 

Besides, the odds of anyone leaving a horngazel behind were slim. 

All the while Trisha tried to question him, yet he only replied in half-hearted grunts

“Bular, how do you know Mr. Aaarrrgghh?” She asked as they went out to the porch, soon making their way towards the streets. Bular swatted at some hanging, flashing lights, letting out a growl as he yanked them off and tossed them to the ground. 

“We’ll continue this at the hut. Now hold on.” 

They’d already spent too much time at the witch’s hut. And while his blood boiled with the chance to fight the Trollhunter again, he couldn’t take that risk. 

At least, that’s what he told himself, as he ran through the streets of Arcadia.

* * *

It had taken forty-five minutes to get to Claire’s house. While normally it would only be about fifteen, it ended up being thirty, as half way through running there Claire had decided that the best place to be was with them. And while Jim wholeheartedly agreed, the ache in his back didn’t as he was slammed to the ground, catching a falling Claire in his arms. Aaaarrgghh and NotEnrique hadn’t been so lucky, but no one seemed worse for wear. Which, considering what could have happened, Jim was grateful. Then with thirty minutes of talking, planning, and running; they’d finally made it to Claire’s house. 

And now they we’re assessing the damage, trying to see what was Bular caused and what wasn’t. So far, the only loss seemed to be a bed…

“My mom’s gonna kill me,” Claire said, staring at the ruins of the once king sized tempurpedic. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t even shed a tear. She just stared on. “My mom is gonna kill me, and then my dad’s gonna bring me back just to kill me again. And that’s if Bular doesn’t kill them first.”

Jim winced. His eyes fell onto one of bite marks, how it was bigger than his chest. How it could easily have been something else instead of the foam mattress. How it could have been  _ some- _

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Jim replied, and felt himself clinging to the words as he said them. “No one is going to kill you. Sure, it’s a bit of a mess, but you’re parents still have two more days till they come back! I’m sure we could-”

“Buy a new bed,” Toby piped up, standing behind them and peering in. Blinky had shooed him away from helping Aaarrrgghh recover from his “glug poisoning” as Blinky had called it. “ You know, my nana has that exclusive membership to amazon. If we all pitch in, maybe we could buy your folks a new bed before they get back.” 

“A Prime Membership isn’t going to keep Bular from attacking my house again!” 

“Hey, it was just an idea!”

While the words themselves were ridiculous, the situation wasn’t. It was clear she was exhausted, mind running ragged to find a way to keep her family safe. 

He knew what it was like, and he would never wish that on anyone.

“No, no it’s not,” Jim moved over, taking hold of Daylight from his back. He’d kept his armour on, just in case anything had happened. He’d gotten use to the weight, but he never forgot it. “But I will.” 

“How,” Claire began, already making her way out of the room and towards the stairs. Jim followed “No offense, but I’m pretty sure the rest of Arcadia needs you to look after it more then me.” 

“Not to mention Mr. Nunez’ll probably spot you outside their house,” Toby added, trailing behind. “Not sure he’ll be too happy to see you in the outfit you wore for the play, dude.” 

“And there the fact that we still need to find the other two stones,  _ and  _ get the Inferna Copula!” Claire responded back, hitting the bottom step and wincing as she stepped in something wet. Looking down she thankfully sighed when she noticed it was just mop water. NotEnrique was still making good on his promise to clean up the house...well, as much as he could. “Jim there’s, there’s just not enough time.” 

“Exactly,” Jim replied, making it to the bottom stairs. “All three of those things are _ in  _ Arcadia. The Ring, the Killstone, and Bular.” 

“And Strickler has too of them.” Toby groaned, before his eyes widened. “Wait...Strickler has too of them!” 

“Exactly, and that’s all the more reason to get the Kairosect.” 

* * *

Angor Rot watched carefully as the two  _ changelings _ made their way through the woods. From his post in the ally, he knew they wouldn’t be able to see, or smell, them. No, he knew for a fact that the larger wouldn’t even bother to look for him. After all, he wouldn’t even suspect the undead troll to be spying on them from the shadows. No, Angor Rot was better than to leave himself open, not to  _ him. _

For a moment, his mind flashed back to the Trollhunter's haven, his school.  _ He remembered how he circled the boy, blinded by his fears. A child, a human child; a Trollhunter. Perhaps his old master was correct, that Merlin had gone mad.  _

_ Perhaps this was a pitiful attempt at prolonging the end.  _

_ “We share a common enemy,” He growled, holding the Trollhunters blade close to his neck.  _

_ He’d been calm collected, prepared to make his deal. He’d gone through his whole argument, believing he’d made a compelling case even, but then the boy had uttered a name Angor Rot had long thought dead.  _

_ “Which one? Strickler, or Bular?”  _

_ And for a moment, he froze.  _

_ And for a moment, everything made sense.  _

Watching the door to the apartment open, Angor spotted the Changeling, Otto, scowling at the duo. Words were exchanged, but they were of no importance to him, not when the son of his greatest enemy stood, sitting ever so unaware. He’d been able to quell the anger before, enough to let the boy continue thinking that they we’re working together, but now that he was alone? 

Well, the bricked wall he held onto buckled in his grip. 

Of course the story had been lies. Of course the son of Gunmar wouldn’t be killed by a mere child. Yet the damage was beyond what Angor expected. Although he never met Bular, never saw the fool in person, he couldn’t deny the resemblance. Perhaps it had been the spare limbs, or the fact that it had been so long since Gunmar’s army walked the earth. Perhaps his memory had just rotted away into nothing. Perhaps it was how gentle he was with the whelp, that he just assumed that it couldn’t have been Bular…

He doubted that the child was even a changeling ether. But there was no way it couldn’t be. After all, it would have been eaten in an instant if it was a human…

After a few moments, Bular and the whelp shuffled back in, and Otto passed them on his way out. Angor caught Otto’s gaze fall upon the ally, onto him, and noticed how his eyes flared up for a moment. Angor smiled, still waiting as he quickly shut the door and gathered himself. It would take a few moments for him to approach, and Angor too every second to keep himself from throttling the liar. 

“You said you wouldn’t come so close to the apartments!” Otto hissed, his voice barely above a whisper as he scooted inside the ally. “I thought we we’re going to meet at-” 

“Plans have changed,” Angor growled looming over Otto as he took a step closer. “I’ve sent the Hunter after the Inferna Copula.” 

Otto remained silent, feeling the blood in his face start to drain. “A-ah...But, I thought that I was-” 

“You still are,” Angor continued, looming back into the shadows. Twilight began to spread across the sky, signaling the sun’s soon arrival. “You are to keep a close eye on the mother. As you know, Strickler has tied her life to his. If one falls, so does the other.” 

“Right, so we simply kill her and-” Otto began, but Angor quickly held his hand to stop him. 

“No, I want to kill him.” 

Otto sputtered for a second, before catching himself and letting out a sigh. He leaned against the brick wall, unaware of Angor’s claw marks. Or maybe he was, and just didn’t want to pay them any attention. 

“So does everyone else,” Otto muttered, pinching the bridge between his nose. “So even if this was easier you choose to do this the hard way? What if the Trollhunter gets your ring and uses it against you? What then?” 

“That is also where you come in,” Angor smiled, crossing his arms. “You’ll make another Killstone.”

“Another?!” 

“The Trollhunter and his friends never saw the first one break,” Angor smoothed over, recalling his own shock before. “They still believe it to be in Strickler’s possession. He’s only under the pretense that I’ll be separating his mother from the fool. If I toss it in as collateral, then he’ll give me the ring, and leave you the stone.” 

“That’s-... That’s actually not a bad plan,” Otto mused, going from disbelief to actually considering the idea in length. “But what will you do once you have the ring, once Strickler is out of the picture? How do I know you won’t come for me afterwards?” 

Ah, here it is. The moment Angor had been waiting for. Originally he hadn’t planned to kill the fool, despite how interesting of a hunt he would be. No, that was before his discovery of the son of Gunmar... “Because we both serve someone of a greater power,” Angor replied, bowing slightly. “The Pale lady is my true master, as she is your’s. And I believe that if her children were to have a proper leader, that title should belong to you. I will instead leave to find her, and bring her back to this world.” 

Angor didn’t have to look up to see the smugness on Otto’s face. Or the way he seemed surprised at his declaration. But if he did know one thing, a Changeling loyal to Gunmar was more than often loyal to their mistress. He, on the other hand, felt no loyalty to that witch. 

Once he had his soul, he would kill them all, Trollhunter and Gumm-Gumm. He would crush that amulet so that no other could use its power, and keep Gunmar from ever walking this plane.

This world, it may have changed, but he knew that it was better off without the stains of Merlin and Morgana. 

“When do you need the stone?” Otto asked, the excitement dancing around the edge of his words. 

“As soon as possible.”


	5. Surprise

There were things Bular didn’t mind about the situation he was in, he realized. It occurred to him a few days after their “successful” raid on the witch’s hut. He’d woken up around midday, from a dreamless, non-haunted sleep. The Shattered king, while he felt his presence every time he laid his head down, did well on staying silent. Part of him wanted to believe that his threats had made it clear, but in all reality he figured the murdered king knew he couldn’t argue with him. And of course he couldn’t, Bular wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t be bested by a troll his father had already killed. Still, there were times he could feel the old King prodding around his memories every now and then.

Stretching his back out and placing his leg upon his stump, Bular realized that the apartment was rather quiet. While normally he’d hear some sort of chatter, or perhaps the television babbling, he heard nothing at all. Shuffling out of his den, Bular gazed upon the room before him. A scowl covered his face when he noticed the window, the one facing the street and the sun and his possible doom, laid open in front of him. It’d been happening more and more lately, as it made it easier for the Goblins to get in. At least, that’s what Otto had said. At first it’s sparked outrage, but by now Bular had figured out a system to this hindrance.

Taking the torn, chewed up comforter, he draped it over most of his body. Shuffling towards the window, he used his metal hand, reached for the curtains, and pulled them closed. He felt the tip of his horns begin to singed by a few stray beams, but as soon as it happened, it was over. Now, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness, Bular took in his surroundings.

Compared to when they first arrived, the apartment had changed drastically. The kitchen had yet to be repaired, as he could see the black stains of soot all from the other side of the room. Various scribbles had adorn the walls, mostly the child’s, but Bular could see his own battle plans from the still open bedroom door. Near to that, the still noticeable Otto size dent had broken into the wall, outlining the changeling robust figure.The carpet was littered with dried, muddy footprints, as well as papers, toys and whatever “treasures” the goblins had collected for the child. And once pristine couch now seemed more sunken in, tilted to one side from where Bular had broken the legs. A single pillow and blanket laid on top, as the child normally slept here.

As well as a note, it seemed.

Making his way over, Bular snatched the parchment from it’s placement and scanned it over. Squinting at the crayon colored words, Bular noticed an arrow pointing to the back and flipped the paper around. On the other side laid neater, Trollish letter, that Bular could better make out. Despite it’s waxiness.

**_Bular,_ **

**_I have taken the whelp to see her kin. Will return by nightfall at latest. Do not leave the apartment today. Food is in the fridge._ **

**_Otto._ **

Bular squinted at the letter, turning it over once more to see if the other side matched this claim. The only words he could get out was “be back soon”, and a small doodle of Otto and Trisha underneath. Rolling his eyes, Bular tossed the note into his mouth and made his way to the kitchen. But for some reason, he didn’t feel like eating.

The elder. He’d nearly forgotten about him. To be fair, he’d spoke sparingly with the old fool, only when he needed too. But the same old fool was responsible for his leg. A leg that still held sturdy, even after these past few weeks. He hadn’t expected the prosthetic to be able to accommodate him, but then again, he should have stopped underestimating humans.

When did he start thinking that?

Was it after the Trollhunter fell him? Or was it when the child was able to strike his side. Maybe it was the witch, that had been the final straw.

For over hundreds and hundreds of years, he’d never cared much for humans. They were to serve him eventually, to fear him, to respect him. They were nothing but food and labor. But now they were not…

Now, they were...they were something else.

He supposed this was why his father fought so hard during the war for the surface. He supposed that while humans were weak, squishing beings, they still held dangers that a troll would not expect. But still, he was one of the most fierce warriors of his tribe. He was a murderer of thousands, one who had slayed two Trollhunters in his time! He was the son of Gunmar!

Bular caught his reflection in the mirror, a small one that he often failed to usually notice. It’s pink framing reminding him of the changeling that once roamed these...two rooms. He supposed he couldn’t say halls, but addressing the amount of rooms just reminded him how much of a cage this place really was. Not that it matters, he still froze nonetheless, stopping mid chew.

Squinting at the mirror, Bular remembered how the bathroom had a larger one, and quickly made his way there. He passed the crushed in smoke detector, it’s metal guts still embedded into the ceiling.

Once inside, Bular fiddled with the wall until his living hand brushed against the light switch. With a flicker, the room became illuminated, and Bular took his form into view.

He didn’t recognize himself, for a moment. The beads in his hair, the shine of his new arm; it wasn’t him. It wasn’t the old him. The arm reminded him of how much he’d lost, how old his living stone was. It’s flawless, unscratched hide contrasted Bular’s scarred body when scrutinized. The beads, while matching his eyes, kept his body from fading into the shadows. Not to mention, every time he shook his head, they rattled as they connected to each other, or his back. Reaching up to untangle one of them, his eyes fell onto the his greatest shame. The scar was healing well. Compared to his first night, where it still glowed faintly even after the sun had long since set, it wasn’t as deadly. But it was still there, still noticeable. It still cracked like lightening against his hide. And while his claws did not incite pain as he picked and traced the groves, he did remember how he’d been so close to losing his life.

To think his story could have ended there…

“What else has changed,” He muttered to himself, his eyes shifting from the scar to the rest of his body. Thankfully, the change in diet hadn’t affected him as much as he worried. Not that he was vain, of course. He just didn’t want to lose his warriors physique. He’d been working hard to keep his strength from fading. But even he knew that his power was not as strong as he once was. But still, his words seem to ring back in his head.

He was still Bular. He still had two of his limbs, both of his horns. He was still the Son of Gunmar, he was still a Gumm-Gumm. He still carved people down, won battles, achieved victory and loss. He was still the Troll he’d always had been, just…

Different...

But was he?

What made him _him_?

What gave him any right to still call himself Bular.

The old Bular wouldn’t have stood for this in an instant. He would have stormed Stricklander’s home and ripped him limb from limb, Angor Rot be damned. He would have burned the Trollhunter’s hut cinders and finish what had been started. He would have threatened Otto to take him back to Arcadia so he could get that damn bridge back, brick by brick.

He would have eaten the child the moment he heard her.

Scowling, Bular turned away from the mirror, shutting the lights off as he began his pacing around the apartment. By now he’d long since given up the idea, to eat the child and be done with her. He still had no idea why. He didn’t want to know why. All he knew was that she was a weakness he didn’t need.

Maybe the elder would be well soon, maybe he could send her back to the farm. Maybe, after he finished taking care of the Trollhunter, he could send for her to return. Maybe he could convince his father that-

“Foolish,” Bular muttered to himself, refusing his own claim with ease. That would just leave him with an even bigger weakness. Any Gumm-Gumm could challenge his legitimacy to the tribe, call his actions to question, all because he’d gotten a soft spot for the Fleshbag child. And while that wouldn’t be a problem for his fighting skills, he didn’t doubt a weaker, more cowardly Gumm-Gumm would use the child against him. The polymorph was already doing the same.

Shaking his head, Bular returned to the task of trying to distract himself, but heard the familiar sound of paper tearing under him. Casting his gaze down, Bular realized he’d stepped on one of Trisha’s drawings. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he reached down and plucked the paper off of his foot. It seemed to be one of the old ones, from where they had first arrived. He could make out himself, Trisha, Otto, and what was either a horde of goblins... or grass. His bets were on the latter.

For a moment, his face softened. It was absolutely horrible, but for some reason, he couldn’t find any disgust like he’d once held. His face shifted into a scowl as he realized that the child would have a fit when she found out. Maybe if he just put them all in a pile, he could hide the damage.

And so, for probably the first time in his life, Bular cleaned a room.

Well, not really. He organized his own den’s back home, when the Gumm-Gumm’s settled down in an area for a while. As they had no Heartstone of their own, it was typical for them to travel. He’d clean and sharpen his weapons, make his bed, and so on. But this, this was different. There was something domestic about the whole thing, and while it kept him busy, he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed picking up after the little brat…

It was also during this time that, while shuffling things around, Bular discovered that the child had paints…

  
  


* * *

Jim panted heavily, still hearing Angor Rot’s screams behind him. If he’d only been faster, if the Kairosect only had a little bit more time, maybe he could have snagged the Killstone, and not destroyed Angor Ring. To be honest, a part of him felt really, really bad for the guy. To destroy your own soul, after trying so hard to get it back? Irony has a funny way of playing out.

Still, he managed to get out with the Killstone, something he hadn’t expected to get at all in the mission, so that was a plus.

Watching the world slowly return to normal around him, Jim tried to gather himself as he basked in the warmth of the sun. Pulling the Killstone out one last time to get a better look, Jim reached into his pocket…

And pulled out nothing but dust.

“Oh no…”

* * *

It had been around evening when the front door swung open, and the smell of baked cheese bread filled the apartment with the sound of laughter. Before Bular could even turn around, a tiny body slammed into his back in a vain attempt at a hug. It did an effort to dragging him out of his focus, and the crimson cup of paint had fallen onto the floor, staining the carpet.

“Bular!” Trisha yelled, her voice tinged with excitement. But then it quickly turned into a gasp of surprise. “Whoa!”

“ _Oh Gott,”_ Otto muttered, disappointingly noticing the newly painted wall behind Bular.

“Ah,” was all Bular could say, stuck trying to turn around and pat the child on the head. “...yes. You’re back. Early.”

“The note said nightfall at the _latest_ ,” Otto responded, making his way to the kitchen with the warmed box, and taking the baked cheese smell with him.

“You paint!” Trisha exclaimed, trying to shove past Bular to get a better view of the new mural. Bular quickly caught on, raising his arms and backing up to block the full view. “You were painting!”

“I, _Listen_ ,” Bular began, already feeling exasperated, he looked to Otto for rescue. All he got was the sight of the Changeling taking a slice of the baked cheese bread and watching expectantly. Bular scowled at him, but his attention was brought back to the squirming child before him. “It’s nothing important.”

“You never told me you could paint!” Trisha, still trying to get a better view of the picture, tried to dive under his legs, but was caught and soon yanked up by her own. “I wanna see!”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do!”

“You absolutely, most definitely, do not.” Bular declared, trying to regain a grasp of the situation.

“That’s only going to make her want to see it more, _mein Prinz,”_ Otto cut in, a smug look on his face. Bular shot him a murderous glare, and in doing so, Trisha managed to take her opportunity. Jabbing Bular’s scar, the Troll winced, letting his grip slack and thus, Trisha free. This, of course, got a laugh out of Otto. “Looks like you’ve been training her too well.”

“Quiet you!” Bular began, before realizing that the child had, indeed, gotten past him. Spinning around, he looked at the now paint stained whelp as she stared up at Bular’s unfinished work. And for a moment, he felt himself freeze. “Ah…”

For a few moments, Trisha didn’t say anything. Instead she stared at the piece with wide eyes. Then, as if methodically, she began to point at a specific side of the painting.

“Is that your dad?” Trisha asked, pointing to the upper corner where Gunmar was standing tall, sword raised high, single eye glowing...or well, to the best of Bular’s ability. Behind his father was a throne made out of bones, and the Heartstone behind him. Before him, an army of trolls, all locked in glorious combat.

“...Yes.”

“...Does he really have a skull throne?” She asked again, pointing to the chair in question.

“...Not yet,” Bular stated, feeling his panic begin to fade. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have one once he comes back.”

“Huh,” Trisha nodded, as if the answered hadn’t been as bad as it should have. Carefully, she began to step back, her eyes still glued to the painting. By now, Bular could see that her expression wasn’t of fear, or even disgust. It was of deep thought. After a rather uncomfortable amount of silence, she smiled and pointing to the part of the wall above “Gunmar”. “You should give him a dragon!”

“What?” Bular asked.

Otto choked on his anchovy and pineapple pizza, quickly turning away to recover himself and keep himself from laughing too hard.

“Yeah! Dragons are cool!” Trisha exclaimed, a smile wide on her face.

“Dragons are not cool,” Bular replied, crossing his arms, “They’re actually overrated.”

“No their not! Dragons can fly! And breathe fire! And do other stuff!”

“So can a dedicated Stalking,” Bular argued, before going to pick up the paint cup and continue his piece. “Besides, I was going to put Lightening above him.”

“No! Put in a sunset!” Trisha ordered rushing over to point out where she wanted the painting.

“Absolutely not,” Bular shook his head, now more comfortable with continuing with his artwork. “Go get your dinner before it gets cold. And how was the Grand-pah?”

“He’s getting better! And he’s gonna come here!” Trisha said excitedly, already rushing to get her pieces of pizza, cheese thankfully, and rushed back. That made Bular falter, and he turned to Otto for more clarity.

“I’m having him transferred to Arcadia Memorial,” Otto replied, now sitting down and watching the display with amusement. He seemed far more relaxed, far more casual than usual. He almost seemed like he was celebrating. “This way, I can take her over there without too much hassle.”

There was a glint in Otto’s gaze, something that clued Bular into the fact that there was probably more to the story. Still, he didn’t pry. He could ask the changeling about that later, once they were alone. Perhaps he could set the Goblins to spar with Trisha tonight. It would be more likely that she’d engage multiple enemies rather then just one.

“Maybe even you could visit him too!” Trisha beamed, liking the idea. “He wants to talk to you too!”

“Oh really?” Bular mumbled, brow raised in mild surprise.

Trisha nodded along, flipping over to look at the ceiling as she spoke. “Yeah! He wanted to know how your leg was doing, and why you guys haven’t taken me to school, and who’s watching the house, and why you let me raid a different house, and then who Draal was-”

Bular continued to listen as the child rambled about the visit, realizing that the Elder probably now new about the dangers his kin was in. And while normally he wouldn’t care, as the old fool was in the hospital still, it did make him slightly...on edge. He’d occasionally gaze over to Otto, who seemed far too involved with his phone then with the conversation at hand, only adding a quip here and then.

It was nightfall when the apartment began to quiet down. By then, Trisha had fallen asleep on her couch bed, nestled and still covered in red paint. He’d wanted to take her out for training again, but he figured rousing her from her sleep would result in a useless lesson. Otto, by then, had put the rest of the groceries and food away, and had taken to sitting at the kitchen table, dealing with some sort of paperwork.

Bular, finally finished with his mural, took a few steps back, and studied his handy work. It was complete, yet...something about it felt off. He realized it a few moments after catching himself in the painting. It was the old him, all four limbs and beadless. All rage and blood lust.

It felt off.

He pushed those feelings down and drank the remaining paint he’d made.

“Chan-...Otto,” Bular began, quietly, but not daring to whisper. He wasn’t going to hide his words like that. Plus, he had enough faith that he wouldn’t wake the child with a bellowing tone.

“Yes, _mein Prinz?”_ Otto asked, checking his phone for the seventh time, before laying it back down as he worked on the files he’d been given.

“Do you really wish to be my father’s adviser, when he finally returns to the surface,” Bular asked, not bothering to look at the Changeling as his head bolted up. The polymorf only hesitated for a second, before giving a quick, firm not.

“Of course, Why else would I-”

“You do realize you’ll have more of a target on your back then now, correct?”

He remembered how hard it had been for Kodanth, at first. How he had to show that he was better then Gunmar’s current adviser. That had been a feat, just getting his voice heard. But from there, Kodanth fought with every troll that questioned his word. He fought not only with his words, but with his strength, when he had too.

“The power is alluring, but it comes with a responsibility,” Bular continued, now shifting to biting into the plastic cup. “And a price. My father only allows failure so many times.”

“And when have I failed you, _mein Prinz?”_ Otto asked, more casually, more relaxed then Bular would have liked. And Bular can’t argue with him, because he’s right. So far, Otto has been there to pick up Bular’s slack, for fixing whatever problems came their way, self made or otherwise. Otto was the one who found him, was the one who found them a place to hide, was the one who even got him the Killstone, and his new arm.

Otto had not failed him. Not yet.

Just like Kodanth had…

“My father’s adviser, Kodanth, he-”

“I have heard the stories,” Otto replied, rising from his spot after a few moments, moving to get a better look of the painting, standing next to Bular. Most changelings had the right mind to stay away, only approaching the Gumm-Gumm prince when they absolutely had too. Otto had been like that, but then again, that was before. “But I assure you, I will not make the same mistakes.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Bular chidded, yet not harshly. And suddenly, Bular was reminded of a different changeling. Of Strickler. But not of old Strickler, no, of a younger, more successful one. He remembered how, back when Arcadia was new and wild, that Strickler had been cunning, quick, always ready to please. But just as quickly, he grew bold, criticized some of Bular moves, even going as far as to change some of his plans. “For all I know, you will make different ones.”

He remembered how much his father had liked Strickler, at first.

Otto didn’t try to correct him, instead remained focused on the painting.

Next Bular, Trisha seemed to shift on the couch, her eyes closing tightly as something happened within her dreams. Something Bular couldn’t see, couldn’t _defend_ her from. So instead, instinctively, his living hand reached out and gently pet the child’s head. As Trisha calmed down, returning to her stupor, Bular caught sight of the charm bracelet on his hands, as well as the watch on hers.

“I suppose everyone is prone to mistakes, every now and then…” Bular confessed, surprising himself with the clarity.

“I have been meaning to ask you this,” Otto began, taking a few steps over. “But… what exactly are you-”

Before the changeling could continue with his words, a soft buzzing began. The duo turned their gazes towards the wooden, beat up table, and Otto’s phone was ringing quietly. The Changeling quickly made his way over, answering the phone with ease.

“Hullo?” Otto began, before quickly pulling the receiver away from his ear as a voice, pompous and terrified, called out. Bular couldn’t understand much of it, but he knew the voice itself anywhere. Otto’s eyes widened as he tried to cover up what was going on, and that made Bular ever the more curious. “Ah, I see, I see. Alright, I will, uh, be seeing you! _Auf Wiedersehen und viel Glück!”_

Bular stared at Otto.

“Oh! That was…” Otto began, his gaze nervously looking over Bular. “Uh...Well…”

Bular knew Otto knew he heard the voice. And Bular _knew_ Otto was deciding whether he should lie about it or not. More specifically, Bular knew that Otto was trying to construct a lie right now, by the way he keep direct eye contact with the troll.

Bular still stared, waiting.

“That was-” Otto began.

“Strickler,” Bular cut in, crossing his arms.

“And he was-” Otto tried again.

“Calling you concerned,” Bular added, glaring as he allowed Otto a chance.

“Because-...” Otto paused, mouth frozen as he debated this last bit. “Because...well…”

“...Go on, Otto,” Bular said, calmly, eyes narrowing. “Tell me why Strickler was calling you?”

* * *

Strickler was terrified.

There were plenty of times he’d been terrified before, but now was possibly one of the closed he’d come to being scared to death. He’d ran from the outskirts of Arcadia, booking it as fast as his legs could carry him...Well, that had been a lie, his wings did a bit of hard work, but he hadn’t flown in so long that he’d crashed into the nearest dumpster when he’d meant to land beside. No, right now, Strickler was in a state of paranoia and fear and he was looking over his shoulder so many times, it just reminded him of his early days as a Janus order scout.

So when he saw that bright, red car; Strickler felt like that, for a second, he could make it out of this alive, like he always had.

“Angor won’t stop until he finds us,” Strickler finished his plea, looking at the disappointed Otto with his own worry filling his eyes. He went to open the door, but to his surprise, it remained locked. “What are you doing, unlock the door!”

“Ah, i’m sorry _mein Freund,_ but,” Otto began, a small smile growing on his face. “There is someone who’d like to speak to you first…”

“What in the world are you-” Strickler, began, before he felt something wrap around his neck and lift him up into the air. Not that it mattered, the moment that calloused, hardened claws touched the side of his shoulder, Strickler knew who it was. But even then, he couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t. He saw him die, his limbs littered the canal! “N...No.”

And yet, when Bular spun him around, Strickler couldn’t even summon up the courage to scream.

“Surprise...” Bular said, and relished in the fear in the changelings eyes. Right up until he passed out from air loss. Once he was certain the fool had passed out, he tossed Strickler into the car, narrowly avoiding the goblin sitting there. “There, now we have our bait.”

“Do you have any idea how stupid this is!” Otto yelled, no, screeched. “Why!? Why are you doing this! What happened to the plan of not having targets on our backs!”

“Strickler is my kill,” Bular replied, causally. “Besides, now we have leverage to use against the Trollhunter. You did say that Strickler managed to tether himself to the boy’s mother”

“Do you really think that plan is going to work twice?!” Otto cried out, before Bular rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut. “We’re going to die. We’re going to die and it’s going to be your fault and-”

“Stop panicking,” Bular ordered. And for some reason, weather it was his tone or fro,...something else, Otto did. He was still panicking on the inside, but, well, outside, he was fine. Bular continued onwards. "I'm going to go get the Killstone and the child. Taken him back to the Janus order and have him under strict lock down."

It was only when Bular was already half way down the street that Otto realized something.

“You don’t even know where that is!”

“Yes I do!” Bular yelled back, running off into the night.

"No! We moved it! It's-" But he was gone. And for maybe the third time that month, Otto wondered if he had made a mistake in retrieving Bular. "...Scheisse."


End file.
